The Gathering
by Echidna's Pen
Summary: With Lucifer out, Dean and Sam try to round up all the hunters for the final battle.After Season 4. Dean/OFC, Banter/Humor/Angst, brotherly love. Rated M, no kiddys please.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Gathering

**Rating:** M, for violence, swearing and of course... sex, what else.

**Spoilers:** Up to the finale of Season 4

**Summary: **Set 3 weeks after the Rising of Lucifer. Contrary to what was expected, nothing came out of that glowing circle we see at the end of the episode and after a two hours of waiting around for something to pop up Dean and Sam go back to Bobby's. Together they decide that hunters have to come together and fight side-by-side if they are going to stand a chance at stopping the apocalypse. They join Ellen at the new and restored RoadHouse and make it their headquarters. And so The Gathering begins.

**Disclaimer:** I'm making no profit and I own absolutely nothing, except for Amy, Reggie and the other OC which are going to be popping up in this story.

**Chapter 1**

Though he'd picked up on the presence of his brother the moment Sam had walked into the bar coming from the kitchen area, he only looked up from the laptop once the fresh cup of coffee was placed on the table, next to the computer.

"Thanks." He mumbled hoarsely, accepting the offer and starting in on his forth caffeine fix of the day - It was eight in the morning.

"Don't think you'll be thanking me when your heart jumps out of your chest and you start foaming from the mouth." Sam reproached taking a seat next to him.

Dean eyed his brother.

"What?"

"Well, that was... graphic!"

"I'm just sayin'... there is such a thing as too much coffee. You need to sleep, man. Did you get any last night?"

Dean grinned and promptly replied:

"No, not really. Reggie's not back from the supply run, but I'll make sure to get on that the second she walks through the door. Don't you worry, little brother."

The comment earned him a disgusted headshake and an aggravated eye roll. Dean simply shrugged.

What? With golden opportunities like that being served to him on a silver platter how could he possibly not make a crude and tasteless remark?

"You really shouldn't be messin' around with Reggie, she's..." Sam trailed off when he failed to find the appropriate euphemism.

"... borderline psychotic?" Dean readily supplied.

"I don't think there are any borders when it comes to Reggie."

Dean laughed at that.

Reggie had always made Sam a little uneasy and you couldn't really blame him, after some of the stunts she'd pulled. Younger than either of the Winchester boys and right about the same age as Jo, she was quite the character. Though not the sharpest pencil in the box, she was determined, brave, knew what she wanted and went all the way to get it. She was impulsive and yes, a less than stable human being. An overall basket case if you were really honest. But living a hunter's life since you were ten would do that to a person. Prone to mindboggling mood swings that would make your head spin, she was the poster child for bipolar disorder. One second she'd be the ditzy teenage girl giggling away at just about anything a guy uttered (especially if said guy was Dean) and the next... well...The smallest glitch in her plans would bring on bloodcurdling fits of rage. And you didn't want to be in the same state, let alone the same room when that happened. Oh, no you didn't! On the other hand, you definitely wouldn't mind hanging around when the tide changed and she was in a more... giving mood.

Dean's smile turned impish at a couple of memories that popped into his head.

Somewhere inside, he knew that fooling around with Reggie was like playing with a ticking bomb; one with a very short fuse. But he couldn't deny it _was_ fun. And he sure as hell needed some fun in his life. So, whenever she was up for it, so was he.

"I can handle Reggie." The older hunter assured. "Besides, the woman has needs and it's not my fault I'm such a yummy treat. It would be rude of me not to..." He sent Sam a mischievous leer adding: "...help her out."

"Of course, you're just sleeping around with her out of the goodness of your heart. Cause you're a giver."

"That's right." Dean provided him a with clicking finger gun and a wink before his eyes were back on the monitor.

"Right..."

Sam just shook his head turning his attention to the contents flashing on the screen.

"Anything?"

"Nothing." Dean's tone sobered up with the change of subject.

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Sam furrowed his brow.

"We supposedly let Hell's head honcho walk and all we got for our trouble was some fancy pyrotech work? I don't buy that."

He did have a point. After the Lilith debacle, the Winchesters had braced themselves and watched the bright circle of light blast through the church floor. They were ready for just about anything. Instead, they got nothing. Ten seconds of blinding brightness and then... nothing.

Upon Sam's insistence, they'd hung around that '_crappy excuse for a church'_ . That's what Dean was calling it halfway into the second hour of sitting on their asses waiting for the sky to start falling. Tired of '_ass_-_sitting'_ and, after announcing that this was the biggest dud since the 88 Led Zeppelin reunion gig, Dean decided, for the both of them, it was time to go. And that's what they did.

"It's been three weeks, dude." Dean went on. "Since then there have been zero electrical storms, no crop failures, no demonic possessions that we know of, not a _blimp_ on the bizarro-radar. Oh, something's definitely up!"

Sam swallowed against the lump in his throat, realising Dean was right.

"You got something?"

The Winchester's turned to see Bobby setting down a crate on the bar counter.

"A little early for beer, don't you think?" Sam wondered.

"I'm just helpin' out Ellen." Bobby explained walking over to their table. "So, you boys find anything?"

"No." The two replied in unison and immediately whirled to face each other yelling out: "Jinx."

"I was first!" Dean hastily claimed.

"Dude, no way!"

"Yes, I was." He insisted.

"Nu-uh."

"Yeah-uh."

As if on cue, both turned to Bobby and anxiously waited for his ruling. He would settle this vital dispute.

The cap-wearing man creased his forehead and mentally braced himself.

And there you have it, folks - The fate of the world and everyone in it resting on the shoulders of Laurel and Hardy.

'_We are so screwed.'_

"So?" Dean asked eagerly.

"It's a tie." Bobby shrugged.

"Oh, come on!"

"I was first." Sam maintained.

"Guys!" Bobby had had enough of this childishness.

Taking in the grave look on his face, the Winchesters relented and with a pout turned their attention back to the computer.

"Just because you three stooges are staring at it is not gonna make anything happen, you know?" Ellen jeered playfully as she joined the trio.

"Hey, Ellen." Sam was the only one to issue a greeting.

"Mornin', Sam. Dean, son, you look like you've been hit by a freight train." She stated, noticing the dark bags under his eyes.

"I'm ok." He lied.

"No, you're not. So do me a favour and get some shuteye."

"I said I'm ok."

But Ellen wasn't so easily dismissed and was in his face forcing him to look her in the eyes.

"You heard me. You, bed, sleep, now."

Dean gulped down the snarky comeback already halfway into his mouth when he locked gazes with the bar owner.

Realising she was waiting for an answer he nodded dutifully.

"Good. And no more coffee." She ordered.

Picking up his mug she disappeared into the back room.

Dean snapped back when he heard his brother stifling a snicker.

"Sorry dude, but you look like you just peed in your pants." Sam chuckled.

"Laugh it up, pretty boy. I'd like to see how dry you'd be if you were on the receiving end of that woman's _I'm-gonna-bite-your-head-off_ look."

Picturing the scenario, Sam's smirk vanished.

"I thought so." Having made his point, Dean questioned Bobby. "Got any feedback from any hunters?"

"A couple."

"Just a couple?"

"Don't act so surprised. First you let Lucifer out and now you wanna round up everybody and head the hunting party to stop him?"

Sam's head dropped guiltily at Bobby's merciful phrasing. If anyone had played any part in Lucifer's release from hell, it wasn't Dean.

"I can see why most hunters wouldn't be too eager to join on that bandwagon." Bobby explained.

"It's the only way we stand a chance. We can't keep fighting on separate fronts like we did before. This is bigger than anyone. And we can't expect any help from Heaven's wing boys either. I'm not dealin' with those dicks." Dean's voice turned acidic by the end of his short rant.

"All we can hope for is to recruit the ones we can and hopefully others will end up joining. But it takes time. It's a word of mouth game." Bobby pursed his lips.

It was clear that not even he was sure of what he was saying.

"Dean Winchester, what are you still doing here?"

His spine straightened abruptly. When she menacingly widened her eyes at him he was out of his chair and shuffling his way up the stairs in ten seconds flat.

---------

Though he'd been unwilling at first, he had to admit that the closer he drew to his bedroom the more appealing the idea of sleep became to him.

He was opening the door and halfway into a yawn when, suddenly, he was grabbed and hurled across the room, landing safely on the bed. The mattress springs were still screeching out their protest against the first burden that had been thrust upon them, when they were subjected to a second one; and a very eager and jittery one at that.

Ready to be faced with God knows what supernatural goon Dean snapped his eyes open to come across a toothy blonde straddling his stomach and grinning down at him.

"Reggie?! How'd you get-Oomph!" His question was cut off by her impatient lips.

His arms flailed awkwardly around her form, his eyebrows rose high on his forehead and his nostrils flared as he inhaled through his nose; his mouth currently being viciously attacked by the young hunter.

She dropped her hips, rubbing herself against the fastening of his jeans and got just the reaction she hoped to provoke.

She let out an _oomph _of her own_,_ unexpectedly spun around and plopped on her back; Dean's hands held her wrists down just above her head, his body pinning hers to the bed.

Reggie lifted herself off the sheets in an attempt to capture his lips again, but he easily averted her assault, pulling his chest away and, in the process, buried himself further between her thighs. The move elicited a gasped whimper from the girl that sent a wave of pride through Dean.

"How did you manage to get up here without anyone noticing? I thought you were out on a supply run?" He paired his query with a head tilt, bringing his face teasingly close to hers, but not enough to allow her access to his mouth.

"I have a few tricks up my sleeve." She punctuated her sentence by thrusting her hips up.

His lids fell shut and he let out a guttural growl.

"I bet you do." He breathed.

He opened his eyes to find her biting her lower lip. That image, coupled with her locking her ankles together behind his knees, made up his mind for him.

He'd get some sleep. Sure he would. Just not right now.

You never say no to a lady, and after all, he was a giver.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Sam frowned when he turned the knob but the door refused to open.

He'd locked it? Why?

"Hey, Dean." He bellowed, tapping on the wooden structure.

The complete silence prompted him to give it another try, this time applying a little more force in his blows. The process became circular and, eventually, with the continual lack of a proper response, Sam was soon banging away an exasperated rhythm.

His hand halted in midair when the door abruptly swung open and a petite blonde stood in front of him.

"Oh... it's you." Sam piped up, surprised to find Reggie.

'_How'd she get up here without anyone noticing?'_

His nose wrinkled at the unmistakable scent that assaulted his sense of smell. He might not know how she got there, but it was pretty clear what they'd been up to.

Her hair was a mess and she looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, clutching a sheet in front of her, barely covering her breasts.

"I-Is my brother-Oh!" He choked midsentence, suddenly presented with the sight of her bare ass when she dismissively turned around.

His cheeks burned bright red, his eyes bouncing off every available surface. Somehow, despite his best effort, they always seemed to end up landing back on her rear-end, watching it sway voluptuously as she walked back into the room, dragging the bedcovers behind her, while he remained dumbstruck at the threshold.

His stunned brain ultimately identified the symbol tattooed on her left cheek. It was similar to the one both he and Dean boasted on their chests and served the same purpose.

Still a bit dazed, his brother seemed to materialize in front of him out of the blue. He was barefoot and wearing only a pair of boxers. His shaggy hair was sticking up humorously in a couple of places, matching to a T his amused expression at Sam's obvious discomfort.

"Hey-ya, Sammy."

He was in a good mood.

'_Wonder why...'_

Sam clumsily tried to focus on Dean and keep his stare from wandering to more interesting sights. Thankfully, Reggie put an end to his torment by lying back on the bed and covering herself with the sheet.

Able to look at Dean, he found him sporting a wicked grin which made Sam blush further.

"Did you catch the tattoo?" Dean waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Gives a _whole_ new meaning to '_cover your ass_', huh?"

Sam swallowed awkwardly, shook his mind back into reason and stated gravely:

"They're here."

The confused expression on the green-eyed Winchester encouraged Sam to elaborate:

"The hunters that agreed to join us. They're downstairs."

Dean sobered up instantly. Checking his watch, he noted it was six in the afternoon. No wonder his stomach had been growling.

He disappeared inside and reappeared ten seconds later. He'd put on his boots, which were yet to be tied, jeans and was still buttoning up his chequered shirt on his way down the staircase.

"Nice job on getting some rest, by the way." Sam couldn't help jabbing.

"A man's gotta prioritize." Dean jeered.

The sly smile, however, disappeared from his lips once he reached the bar.

Ellen was in her regular spot, behind the counter, talking to a burly, brown-haired man, probably in his late fifties. The way he was dressed made him look like a trucker, but the outline of a handgun bulging out his vest right above his low riding jeans, told a completely different story. He was a hunter, and by the way he was chatting with Ellen it was obvious she knew him.

Dean figured him to be Cal Hanson. His father, John Winchester, and Bobby had mentioned him on a few occasions; no notable stories, just another hunter; a pretty decent one from what he'd heard so far.

As for the rest of the bar patrons, there was a couple sitting at a table - a man and a woman, both about fortyish, both with a nondescript appearance. It was important for a hunter to go by unnoticed. These two had that rule down.

'_The Logans.'_ Dean concluded,recalling the info Bobby had given him the previous day.

And speaking of the junkyard owner, he was standing by the jukebox. Joining him, were two men; probably the two new hunters Bobby had referred to earlier that day.

By the time the Winchesters reached the last step of the stairs all seven pairs of eyes had drifted to them.

Without a word everyone gathered around the bar; the Logans picking up their respective beers as they walked over.

Dean cleared his throat before he spoke:

"Hi. Dean Winchester, this is my brother, Sam."

"Kevin Logan, my wife Nancy."

The four exchanged restrained nods. There was an obvious tension in the room.

"Cal Hanson." Said the burly guy.

Dean had been right so far in his assumptions.

More nods.

"This here's is Frank Moore, from Pittsburgh." Bobby introduced the short, skinny man to his right.

Though his hair was covered by a baseball cap, the abundant and merging freckles over his cheekbones and thin nose and the ruddy three-day-old stub along his jaw gave away the fact that he was a redhead.

"How you doing?" Frank actually made an effort to be pleasant, going so far as to throw in a smile.

Sam was the only one of the two boys to offer one back, and still it was a tight and closed-mouth one.

Next, Bobby turned to the tall, dark skinned man on his left. He was absolutely... monstrous! Taller than Sammy and, if possible, bigger, he was quite intimidating. The scowl he bore didn't help.

"And this is Johnny Walker."

Dean did a double take and blurted, with a chuckle:

"Come again?"

He had to be joking! Right?

The solemn look on _whiskey_-_boy'_s mug (Yep, Dean had already named him!), told him this was no joke.

But Dean couldn't help himself:

"Funny parents. Let me guess, you got a sister named Betty Ford?"

Apparently, the sense of humour hadn't trickled down the genetic pool, 'cause JW sure as hell wasn't laughing at the little quip.

Dean gulped dryly looking around the room for the slightest hint of a snicker.

Nothing; even friendly-Frank wasn't smiling anymore.

Dean could have sworn he heard crickets in the background.

"Tough crowd." He whispered over his shoulder at Sam.

"How about we get down to business?" Bobby thankfully intervened, slicing through the brutal silence.

"So what's the plan?" Kevin inquired, bringing the mouth of the beer bottle to his lips and guzzling down a generous amount of its content.

The group gathered around the table, Reggie having joined them a few minutes earlier. All eyes were on the small spot Dean singled out on the map.

"We've already got a small group working out of Sacramento." He explained.

"How small is small?" Cal wondered sceptically.

"Four guys, maybe five." Sam answered.

"That's pretty small." Nancy pointed out exchanging worried glances with her husband, who seemed to agree, much like everyone else in the room.

"Who's heading that batch?" Frank questioned.

"Dan Gunther." Bobby supplied.

This bit of information appeared to loosen up some of the tension. Dan was an old, experienced hunter, well known and respected in their community. Having him on their side was a good thing.

"What about the eastside?"

At Kevin's query Dean straightened up. He tried to sound unfazed when he responded:

"We're still working on that."

And the tension was back in full force.

"No one? I thought you said you had three fronts - here, one on the Westside and one on the East." Kevin voiced out everyone's concern.

"Well... that's the plan." Sam fought to keep the anxiety from his voice. "But no one's willing to join."

"Great!" Kevin puffed, flailing his arms in defeat as he backed away from the group. "This shit blows up in Maryland and you've got no one to work that area."

Sam's back went rigid.

Kevin was referring to the _incident_, three weeks before, in Ilchester, which had triggered this reunion in the first place.

By now, probably every single member of the underground hunter community knew about it. After all, the devil himself walking out of hell was pretty big news. But the details, particularly the extent of Dean and Sam's part in setting off that event was known only to themselves, Ellen and Bobby. And according to the eldest of the Winchesters, they were gonna keep it that way.

"Like I said, we're working on it." Dean half-growled, narrowing his eyes at the blond man.

Ten minutes into having made his acquaintance and he already didn't like this guy. It looked like he was more interested in pointing out the flaws in Dean's plan than actually providing solutions.

The two men remained fixed on one another, neither willing to back down. Sensing the escalating stress level, Ellen intruded on the conversation.

"Frank, Bobby said you're from Pittsburgh. You know anyone who'd be willing to join?"

"Ah..." The redhead scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Well, folks back home aren't really my number one fans, you know?"

All eyes fell on the skinny man, waiting for him to explain. It only served to unnerve him further and he dropped his gaze under the group scrutiny.

Reggie's left brow shot up.

This wasn't good. It was precisely the problem. When it came to hunting, you needed to trust the people you worked with completely. Your life depended on it. Though no one said it, it was plain all were thinking it. This would never work - hunters, who didn't know each other, coming together to work side by side? Not gonna happen.

"I know someone who can help us round up a few guys in Hudson, North Carolina."

At the cavernous tone, everyone turned to the tall, dark skinned man who'd remained completely silent up to this point. Colossal arms crossed over his chest, with massive triceps bulging through his T-shirt, Johnny Walker stood, unyielding and with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Who?" Kevin asked clearly unconvinced.

"Rufus Turner."

Bobby's head shot up at the familiar name:

"That hermit? He's never gonna join."

"Yeah!" Dean snorted. "No amount of lip-smacking Johnny Walker is gonna make that freak come out and play."

There was a resounding intake of breath and Dean found himself the target seven jaw dropped gawks.

The only one's not partaking of the collective gobsmacked look were Bobby, who was shaking his head and Johnny, who remained unaltered by the comment.

"What?" Dean frowned and turned to Sam, hoping he'd shed some light on the current situation.

"Dude, you got a death wish or something?" Sam hissed.

"Huh?" Dean looked around the room and then his eyes suddenly shot open once the double meaning of his own words hit home. "Oh, no-no-no. I-I didn't- I didn't mean-" He stammered ineptly. "Blue! The drink! The guy's got this creepy fixation with Johnny Walker Blue!"

He clumsily tried to clarify what he'd truly meant but only managed to bury himself further:

"I-I didn't mean- That-that wasn't an obscure gay reference or anything. Not-not that I'd have a problem if you were gay."

More gasps.

"I mean, I-I'm not saying you're gay. Just that if you were, it would be-" All that stuttering and confusing back paddling was making him dizzy and out of breath, so he decided it was in his best interest to put an end to his little rant.

He paused and scanned everyone's face - more crickets and baffled stares.

Slumping his shoulders, Dean finally mumbled uncomfortably:

"O-kay... I'm gonna shut up now."

Bobby hastily tried to divert the attention from the boy and turned to Johnny.

"I don't think you're gonna have much luck with Rufus. He's retired."

"I'm not saying he's gonna join. But I can get him to pull some strings, make some calls. I think we can get a pretty solid group."

Bobby eyed the large man suspiciously.

"Ok, say, by some miracle, we manage to get these three places operational." Kevin was intent on poking at the plan, aggravating Dean further. "What then? We just sit around waiting for something to happen?"

He stood up, walked over to the bar and helped himself to another bottle.

"For the last three weeks there's been nothing. Not a peep, not so much as a boo." He swung around and lazily slouched against the counter. "Are you even sure this actually happened?"

"What?" Sam asked surprised.

Was he questioning that Lucifer was out of his cage? Really?

"Maybe this whole thing was just a hoax." He concluded with a fresh sip of his beverage.

"What are you sayin'? This whole year was just a wild goose chase?" Dean snarled getting another shrug and a swig from Kevin.

The last response peeved even Bobby and he stepped up to the younger man.

"Olivia and Jed were good friends of mine. So were a lot of other hunters who died during the rise of the witnesses, so don't you come around denying that it happened. The seals were real and Lucifer's out." By the time he finished his sentence he was in Kevin's face, daring him to utter another discouraging word.

Nancy hurried over to her husband's aid. She rubbed his shoulder while trying to excuse Kevin's behaviour:

"He didn't mean anything by it. It's just... it's hard to believe that something this big would go down without any consequences. You gotta admit it's strange." She looked at Sam and Dean. "You two said it yourself, nothing came out of that church. Who's to say it happened? Maybe that wasn't the last seal after all. Maybe we still have a chance at stopping this."

"Oh, believe it, Pollyanna. It happened." Dean assured her.

Out of the blue Frank jerked up and all turned to him with questioning frowns. Hastily, he scrambled his cell phone out of the back pocket of his jeans.

"Set on vibrate." He explained, stepping away from the group to answer the call.

"Look, we need to prepare for whatever's coming." Sam resumed the discussion.

"I'm getting kinda tired of waiting." Kevin whined.

Man, he just wouldn't let up! What a dick!

Dean was about to reply when a ringing sound drew everyone's focus to the wall phone next to the cash register. Ellen excused herself and walked over to pick it up.

Soon after, a similar sound was heard, this time coming from the inside of Cal's vest.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

Frank closed the lid on the small device in his hand.

"Gus Hanson was just found in his apartment." After a brief pause he added ominously: "Hacked to bits."

"Melanie and John Seeger's house burned down, with them in it." Ellen announced.

Simultaneously, everyone turned to Cal.

"Ok, thanks for letting me know. See ya." He inhaled sharply, looked about the room and once secure that he had the group's full attention, he informed: "Four other hunters just bit the dust; one down in Florida, two in Arizona and one in Utah.

"I guess were done waiting." Dean notified, sending a poignant glower in Kevin's direction.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Dean hit a few keys and waited. He was stunned when he failed to find any new developments on the program running on his laptop.

"Nothing?" Sam wondered looking over the shorter man's shoulder.

"Nada, zip."

"These deaths can't be random. Someone or something is killing hunters." Reggie stated joining the two brothers.

"Whatever it is it's not leaving any kind of paranormal mark." Dean stated.

"You sure that thing's workin'?"

Dean made a straight line for Kevin before Sam could stop him.

"You know what, dude?" He glared down at the blond man. "You're really getting on my last nerve."

Chin up and with an inflated chest Kevin matched Dean's glower, unwilling to back down.

"I'll tell you what, instead of just sitting there and bitching about everything, how about you take the Mrs. and leave?" Dean's curt offer sounded more like an order.

"You tellin' me what to do?" Kevin snapped back.

"Honey... let's just-"

"No!" He cut off his wife's request, keeping his eyes on Dean. "How about it, Winchester?"

"If you're planning on staying I suggest you start getting used to it." Dean bit out.

"I don't think I like your tone, _boy._"

By the time Kevin's brain registered the fist flying towards his face he was already sprawled on the ground.

When he opened his eyes, Dean was towering over him.

"Call me boy again and you'll be picking up your teeth off the floor."

He expected to find disapproving glances from the rest of the group. Instead, when he faced them he was greeted by a couple of smirks and one huge, proud grin from Reggie.

Apparently, he wasn't the only one who didn't like Kevin's attitude.

"Come on, honey. Let's just go." Nancy begged.

Her helping hand was quickly swatted away as Kevin scrambled back onto his feet on his own.

"Ouch! _That's_ gonna leave a mark." Reggie singsonged noticing the angry red staining his left cheek.

"You think you're such hot stuff." Kevin barked, rubbing his aching jaw and spitting out the blood pooling into his mouth from his split lip.

"Hey, buddy! Watch the floor!" Ellen bellowed.

"You think you can lead us? After the bang up job you and you're little brother did in stopping Lucifer?"

Dean whirled around prepared to hurl himself at Kevin. Bobby's hand on his chest was the only thing that stopped him.

"Logan, maybe you should listen to your wife."

"Oh, you gonna hide behind an old man. That it? Come on, Winchester!" He jabbed.

Bobby could feel Dean's heart pounding frantically through his shirt, his breaths coming in short infuriated pants.

"It's not worth it, Dean." The bearded hunter told him under his breath.

"Tell me, Winchester, what really happened in that church?" Kevin was too focused on Dean to notice Sam's sudden discomfort. "How'd you manage to botch up that job?"

"Logan!" Bobby roared.

"Stay out of this!" Kevin shouted back. His tone dropped an octave as he redirected his attention to Dean once more: "I've been doing this a lot longer and I'm telling you - you're gonna get everyone killed."

"I don't know about everyone, but if you don't shut your pie-hole I might just kill you!"

Kevin scanned the group.

"You guys really gonna take orders from this snot-nosed kid? With his track record?"

There was no response from the others, prompting Kevin to shake his head and mock:

"For crying out loud, people! He opened the gates of Hell! Remember?"

The reminder seemed to stir up some doubt in them, particularly Frank and Cal, but still, no one uttered a word. With no one on his side but Nancy, Kevin seemed to accept his defeat. He picked up his jacket from the bar stool and guzzled down what was left of his beer.

Relaxing, Bobby stepped away from Dean. The moment he did that and Kevin saw his path was clear, he lunged forward.

Reggie's trained eyes picked up on the flash of metal in the hunter's hand prompting her to yell out:

"DEAN! He's got a knife!"

He felt the tight grip on his shoulder, holding him in place and Dean braced himself for the sting of a blade cutting into his back. It never came, though. Instead, the fingers clutching him disappeared and a loud pang coupled with a thud echoed throughout the bar.

Dean whirled around and found an unconscious Kevin once again on the floor; to his left loomed Johnny's giant figure holding a three inch blade in hand.

"Wow." Sam gaped stunned.

In a fraction of a second, Johnny had crossed the room and relieved an experienced hunter of his weapon, flooring him in the process. And he wasn't even short of breath.

"Thanks." Dean wheezed out his gratitude.

Johnny nodded mutely. Facing a terrified Nancy he question:

"M'am, you got a car?"

She bobbed her head and watched him wide eyed as he effortlessly picked up her spouse, threw him over his shoulder and walked towards the door. When he reached it, he stopped and turned, almost mechanically. It was clear he was expecting her to follow him.

Without a word she did.

Unable to contain her excitement, Reggie scampered off to the nearest window. She peeked out to see Johnny placing Kevin into the backseat of his car and sniggered:

"This is _so_ cool!"

The roar of an engine revving up was followed by a steady rumbling. It gradually faded out as the vehicle drove away from the roadhouse and Johnny re-entered the bar.

Everyone gaped at him in awe. But he remained unfazed by it.

"So..." Frank broke the silence. "What now?"

As if on cue, everyone turned to Dean. Straightening up and shaking away the last traces of adrenaline pumping through his body he walked over to the map spread out on one of the tables.

"Ok. We need to check these deaths. Try and find what exactly killed them." Dean reasoned. "We can get Sacramento do check out Gus, the ones in Arizona and Utah. That leaves the Seegers in Albany and the one in Florida."

"I can check Albany on my way to Rufus." Johnny offered and Dean gave him a consenting nod.

"I don't mind catching some Sun. I got Florida." Frank suggested.

"I'll go with him." Cal added.

Having reached a silent agreement the three hunters prepared to leave. They were already at the door when Bobby spoke:

"Guys."

They halted, facing him.

"Something's killing off hunters. Be careful."

All three nodded and left.

The remaining bar patrons went their separate ways. Ellen went into the kitchen to work on dinner, Bobby sat down in front of the computer, rubbing his head through his cap while a parched Reggie trudged up to the counter and picked up a beer bottle.

"You ok, man?" Sam inquired privately, taking in the deep creases over his brother's brow line.

Despite Dean's effort to unwind, his shoulders remained squared and his spine stretched tight. Something was coming after hunters, which meant...

He shook away the thought that momentarily popped into his head and brought a chill to the pit of his stomach. He looked up at Sam to find him frowning. He was obviously trying to suss out the cause for Dean's tense demeanour.

"Where are you goin'?" Sam asked at the sight of Dean slipping on his leather jacket and fishing out his car keys from the side pocket.

"I gotta check something out. Don't wait up."

And that's all the explanation Sam got as Dean quickly disappeared out the front door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

It hovered about an inch from her lips. She could almost taste it. And then the sound of the doorbell reverberated through the kitchen and it was as if she'd been punched in the gut.

"What now?" She voiced out her aggravation.

For a moment she considered ignoring whoever had had the ridiculous idea to come knocking on her door at this ungodly hour and just bite into her sandwich.

It rang again and she pushed out a frustrated half-growl. Putting down her food, she wiped her hands on her jeans and marched over to the front door.

"What?! Can't a girl have a decent meal without being-" She swung the door open, prepared to lash out at the person standing behind it, but instead gasped: "Jesus!"

In front of her, hunched over and barely propping himself up against the threshold was one Garrett Bailey; crimson red blotted the front of his plaid shirt, as well as the sleeves and he was clearly out of breath.

"I'm good, but I ain't that good." Despite his state he managed to quip and send her his trademark wink.

"What the hell happened to you?!" She exclaimed, hastily slipping his arm over her shoulder and helping him into her house.

"Oh, you know... the usual." He coughed.

Five minutes later he was lying, shirtless on the couch.

Placing the makeshift suture kit on the coffee table, she knelt down next to him and began accessing the damage. It wasn't as bad as she'd thought at first - three claw marks on his stomach, plus a couple on the inside of his left forearm, none of which were currently bleeding.

"Where did you get these?"

"Werewolf, near Cincinnati." He supplied, his gaze burning into her face.

He scrutinized every last feature while she began working on the gashes.

"That's a five hour drive." She popped a single, chastising eyebrow up at him.

"Four, when I'm drivin'"

"I'm sure there are at least three hospitals on the way over here." She continued to reprimand bringing the soaked gauze to the slashes on his stomach.

"Couldn't find any." He shrugged and hissed with a twinge of pain.

"Really?"

"Honest to God." He assured her, but the impish pitch in his voice was unpersuasive.

She let out an exasperated breath. What was she going to do with this kid? This was the third time in the last two months he'd shown up at her door.

"You could have bled out." She pointed out with a graver tone.

"Huh-huh." He bobbed his head dismissively, solely focused on committing her face to memory.

After all, this could be the last time he saw her.

He gulped and started his study at the small wrinkle over the bridge of her nose. It seemed to always pop up whenever she was concentrating on something and he was sure that if he checked her mouth he would also find her biting her lip.

"I don't have any local anaesthetic." She informed him.

It didn't bother him. As long as it was her doing the stitching, he'd be fine.

"Cold turkey it is, then."

"Ok, here we go."

His breath hitched when the needle first pierced through his skin. She looked up. Their eyes met and the butterflies in his stomach outshined the throbbing caused by her actions.

"You ok?"

He nodded, unable to find his voice when confronted by those big doe eyes.

Next on his list, was her tiny nose. Once he was satisfied he'd memorized it, his gaze followed the sharp arc of her cheekbone to her ear and then trailed down the slender curve of her neck.

Though she was focused on the task at hand she could still feel his eyes burning into her.

"So..." She tried to dissipate some of the tension by cutting through the silence. "Anything new?"

He frowned at her question.

"You askin' me about huntin'?"

"Uh-huh."

"What about the _not a_ _peep_ _about_ _hunting_ rule?" He quoted her verbatim.

Apparently, her little plan to distract him by making small talk backfired, because, if anything, his staring became even more intense.

His query remained unanswered.

"Why the sudden interest?" He probed.

"Just felt like chatting." She pursed her lips, finishing the first cut and moving on to the next.

Ok. She wanted to talk. It was fine by him. But where to start? A lot had happened since she'd decided to censor out that particular subject matter. A whole lot!

"Well..." He began and she could already feel herself relaxing, because in his pondering his gaze drifted to the ceiling.

'_Thank God!'_

Now she could simply phase out his yapping, occasionally dropping in a few mumbled retorts and she'd be home free.

"... over the last year someone's been trying to get the downstairs big cheese out of his cage."

Why did Garrett always have to make things difficult?

She rolled her eyes and reluctantly requested:

"Downstairs big cheese? Care to break down the cryptic Garrett speak there?"

"The Devil." He said it like it was the most inconsequential thing in the world.

She stopped what she was doing and zoomed in on his face. He had a goofy, childlike smile perched on his lips.

"The Devil out of his cage? As in get the Devil out of hell?"

"Bingo!" He continued to grin at her.

"So the whole Light Bearer, Lucifer gig is real?" She sounded doubtful.

"Yep! The Big Kahuna! The Big Enchilada! The Big-"

"I get it!" She cut off his rambling.

She studied him for a few seconds and then spoke again:

"So, how do you get the Devil out of hell?"

"Dunno, something about seals being broken. Sixty six of them."

"What? Six hundred and sixty six seals was just too much of a hassle, so someone decided to drop a decimal, that it?"

"Huh?"

He had no idea what she was talking about.

"What kind of hunter are you?"

"What do you mean?" He asked, slightly offended by her query.

She chuckled and her relaxing laugh washed over him.

"You didn't pay much attention in Sunday school, did you?"

"Do I look like a choirboy to you?"

"Choir, not so much. Boy? Definitely."

"Ouch! That hurt."

He tried to lock gazes with her, but her attention was already back on the wound she continued to sew up methodically.

"You're too hung up on numbers."

"Really?" She smirked, shaking her head.

She had to hand it to Garrett Bailey - he was nothing if not persistent.

Ever since the first time she'd met him, he'd tried to get her to go out with him. She'd just finished her third year of med school and had come home for the holidays. Exhausted, she'd dropped her duffle bag the moment she'd walked through the front door. From the hall she'd bellowed out her arrival. Instead of her mother though, she'd found a fifteen year-old boy sitting on the living room couch, waiting for his uncle to get patched up. His green eyes had zeroed in on her and that had been it. With a cocky grin and an exaggerated swagger he'd closed the distance between them and promptly had introduced himself; the drawl in his accent giving away his Texan background.

When, after exchanging no more than three sentences, he'd suggested they go somewhere more private, she'd started scanning the place for hidden cameras. Had to be a joke, right? No one could be this brash and smug. At the time, as well as tonight, her brain disobediently presented her with a glowing example that fit, and surely surpassed, the requirements for that particular profile. She hastily dismissed the thought and strained to keep her head off the recent memory and on the more distant one.

She remembered that when she'd turned back to the boy, he was still leering like he was about to pounce on her and she'd quickly put up her arm.

"Ow! Back up there, Casanova."

He'd purposefully stepped forward, causing her outstretched hand to rest on his chest. Arm's length was all the distance she was gonna get from this one.

"You should really come with a leash." She'd mocked, expecting to see a hint of embarrassment on his cheeks.

But he'd remained unfazed:

"I've always been more of a handcuff guy, myself. But I can do leashes."

Five years later, the memory of that encounter still brought a smile to her face.

Even though he'd grown quite a bit since then (he was now well over six feet), every time he made a pass at her, she still saw him as that eyebrow-waggling teenager - charming and awkwardly cute, sure! – but still… no more than a cocky kid.

"What?" He questioned catching her grin.

"Nothing." She sighed, moving onto the next cut.

"I'm gonna be 21, you know? Not exactly in diapers here."

"No, but you still can't buy alcohol, can you?" She jabbed, looking up and raising an eyebrow at him.

"Doesn't mean I don't drink." He countered and added with a smirk: "Plus, most things are a lot more fun when you're sober."

"Most hunters would disagree with you on that one."

She couldn't help dropping her gaze under his intense stare. Though she had no romantic interest in him, she had to admit that the way he looked at her did wonders for her ego.

"Point is you were probably still working your way around your baby teeth right about the same time I got my bachelor degree."

"Oh, I don't know about that."

There was just no deterring this kid.

"I was very precocious, you know? How old are you supposed to be when you lose your last baby tooth?"

"Garrett, I'm not gonna discuss dental anatomy with you while I'm patching you up. Just keep still and let me finish this, ok?"

Out of the corner of her eyes she caught his nodded agreement.

"Thank you." She sighed.

Her nimble fingers faltered in their task as she felt his dissecting eyes on her face.

"Garrett…" She warned.

"What?" He feigned innocence.

"Quit it." She grumbled.

"Am I makin' you nervous?" His voice carried traces of his smirk.

Fortunately, she was out of gauze.

It gave her an excuse to walk away from him, his scrutinizing stare and his uncomfortable question.

"Hold on a sec, I need to get something."

He nodded again but kept his eyes on her all the while she walked around the room gathering what she needed. When she sat back down he was still gaping at her.

After a total of ten seconds of silence he approached the subject again.

"This might be the last time you see me. Come on… give a guy a break, sweetheart."

At the use of the endearing term her throat closed up abruptly and her stomach churned. The needle in her hand ruthlessly pierced through his skin, causing him to jerk and let out a howl of pain.

"Hey!"

She ignored his protest and he was shocked to find himself on the receiving end of a deadly glare.

"Don't call me that."

"What? Sweetheart?"

She had to shut her eyes and swallow hard against the sudden sting in her chest that made her breath hitch.

He was confused by her unexplained, visceral reaction.

"O-ok. I-I'm sorry." He stuttered ineptly.

He didn't mean to upset her. Hell, he didn't even know why she was upset in the first place! So he'd called her sweetheart, big deal! But still he was sorry for having caused her any sort of distress.

She opened her eyes and focused on her breathing.

'_Inhale, exhale... it's ok, it's gonna be ok. You're __ok.'_

As if saying it out loud would make the voice in her head truthful, she worded out the mantra:

"I-It's ok, just don't...."

He just wanted to make the ache marring her face go away.

"I won't, Carrington." He hurriedly agreed.

And there it was again. The electric jolt in her gut, that made her shudder a bit. Letting out a small pant she murmured, eyes buried in her work.

"I told you before. It's Amy. Just... Amy."

**A****uthor's note (added after the chapter was posted)**

Apparently there has been some confusion as to who this "Amy" is. So I have 2 notes actually:

For those who read Save Yourself: Yep - this is Amy, and this is sort of a sequel to Save Yourself. It can stand on its own because in future chapters I plan to add info about SV, but if you'd like to see it as a sequel… I guess you is set approximately 1 year after Dean died and season 4 happened exactly how it is depicted in the actual show and it picks up after the big season finale. those who have not read Save Yourself (My previous fic)

If you don't feel like reading 50 or more chapters here's the gist of it:

Amy Carrington is an original character created by me. She's about 29 years-old and a medical doctor. She is strong, a bit stubborn (euphemism), has a mind of her own and no, she does not drool over Dean. Ok, maybe on the inside, but she's too pigheaded and proud to show it outwardly. Come on, Dean is already cocky enough as it is.

She grew up in Griffin, Indiana with her mother who was also a medical doctor.

Ever since she was in pigtails her home has been a safe house for hunters who get injured during a job. One of the many patrons of the Carrington's household was John Winchester who would, on occasion, resort to this refuge, bringing along his two children (Sam and Dean).

This is how Amy came to know John's oldest son.

From the get go they didn't like each other. For Amy, Dean was a rude, smug, smart-aleck, who eventually grew up to be a womanizing scoundrel.

For Dean, Amy was a stubborn, self-righteous goody-two-shoes.

One night, as children, Amy finds a nosy Dean playing around her father's collection of paranormal paraphernalia, which includes the Rings of Ocellina. Legend has it that if two people read the incantation the rings would split and if worn by those same people would allow their souls to be joined. And this is exactly what Dean and Amy did, by accident.

Fast forward 19 years, a mangled and half dead Dean is brought to Amy's doorstep. She saves him and when the hellhounds come for him again she slips on one of the rings into Dean's finger. This effectively makes it impossible for the Hellhounds to collect Dean's soul since it's now linked to Amy's and she was never part of the deal.

The rest of the story deals with them trying to hunt down Lilith and get Dean out of the deal, but it you want to know how it ends I guess you're going to have to read that one.

Puff, well, that was a long one... huh? Anyway, that's all the back story you need. All this information is gonna be gradually included in this story (The Gathering), but for those who found it a bit confusing... there you have it. ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Author's note:**

If your's still at a loss in this fic, maybe you haven't read the Author's note I added to the previous chapter a couple of days after I originaly posted it. So if you need to, skip on back and get the info.

;) Enjoy!

She almost caved under the intensity of Garrett's ogling, but tried to see the upside of having spent the last five minutes in absolute silence with him - at least she was almost done.

Patched up, he'd leave and she'd be able to go back to her normal life. Her normal, boring life, which had no vampires, no ghosts, no demons and nothing, absolutely nothing, which could remind her of… him.

She'd forget about the hunter's world and all the painful memories that came along with it. She'd done it before; no reason why she couldn't again.

Why'd she even bring up the subject in the first place?

'_Stupid, stupid, stupid_!'

Though she didn't want to admit it, she knew exactly why she'd done it.

It was one year to the day, exactly one year ago Amy Carrington had stood alone in the middle of those woods and had said goodbye to Dean Winchester. She hadn't looked back ever since.

Or at least she'd tried not to.

She'd applied for a job at the local hospital and sent word through the grapevine that her home was no longer a safe house for hunters. Apparently, the only one who hadn't gotten the memo was Garrett.

She'd always had a soft spot for the kid, so she tolerated his occasional visits as long as he kept up his end of the bargain - no talking about hunting.

Time, long hours of being on call and taking extra shifts was all she needed.

It was all going along smoothly, until Garrett showed up at her doorstep tonight, bringing with him the world which she'd tried so hard to forget and drudging up recollections which were best left undisturbed.

Though her fingers continued on autopilot, her gaze became distant and unfocused…

_She suddenly found herself pinned against the sink, her lower back and the inside of her wrists pressed into the cold porcelain. She star__ed up at glaring green eyes._

"_Did you fuck him?" Dean demanded out of the blue._

_The barely contained rage in his eyes sent a chill down her spine, but her reply was uncensored, instant and trademark Amy:_

"_Did you fuck her?"_

"_No." It was concise and to the point._

_Her breath hitch and s__he gulped; her next question was just above a whisper:_

"_Why not?"_

_He leaned into her, thinning the already short distance between their faces. With a tight jaw he gritted out:_

"_Did you...__ fuck him?"_

_Her__ pulse raced frantically under the toxic combination of his proximity and his piercing gaze._

"No."

_Upon her admission, t__he two practically lunged at one another; their mouth crashing for a rushed and gluttonous kiss._

'_Damn it!'_ She cursed inwardly at the intrusive memory.

"Amy…"

Garrett's voice ripped her away from her thoughts and hauled her back to reality.

When she glanced at her hands, she realized she had only one last cut to go.

She gave him a tight, closed-mouth smile and quickly attempted to divert his attention:

"So..." She struggled to find a subject matter other than hunting but nothing came to mind. "... what did you mean when you said this might be the last time you see me?"

"He's out."

"You know, kid, you really gotta start being a little more elaborate in your answers. I can't read minds."

"The Devil. And don't call me kid."

Amy puffed, ignoring his scowl:

"Oh, come on! There is no such thing as the Devil."

"Why not?"

"'Cause..." She was stumped for a valid argument. "...it's just..."

"Amy..."

She looked up at him unconvinced.

"I'm telling you... he's just as real as all the goons and freaky monsters out there. And now, thanks to the Winchesters, he's out."

Amy halted mid eye roll.

"What?"

"I didn't believe it either until hunters started showing up dead left and right." Garrett was too focused on his ranting to notice the change in Amy.

"Hold up there, cowboy. You mean _Winchester_. Singular, not plural." She corrected hastily.

"Huh?" Garrett furrowed his brow and Amy felt the intense urge to smack him over the head.

"There's only one left. De-" Unable to say his name without choking, she rephrased: "The older one of the brothers... um..." She swallowed against the lump in her throat. "... I heard that... um... he died... last year, right?"

"Yeah, well, apparently, when it comes to these guys, dying really isn't that big a deal."

"Wha-" She cleared her voice. "What do you mean?"

'_Just stay calm. Breathe... Breathe, God damn it!'_

"He's popped back up."

Ok, she was gonna kill this kid!

"Oh, for crying out loud, Garrett! Who? What popped up? What?! Just spit it out!"

He jerked at her unexpected outburst and was about to utter a wisecrack about it, but stopped himself at her murderous glower.

"The brother who died... Not the first one. The one who went to hell? Don or David or..."

"Dean!" She snapped causing him to jolt again.

"Yeah..." He dragged the word out, still trying to figure out what was up with her. "That one... he's back."

What?

She said it, in her head at least. But with her body frozen solid and the air suddenly having been sucked out of the room, it was hard enough to breathe; talking was certainly not an option.

"And word's out that he's the only one who can stop Lucifer. He's tryin' to round up all the hunters for the big fight, so I'm goin' up there to join in on the fun." Garrett continued to yap on, oblivious to the way Amy's mouth hung open, the way her chest was hardly moving as she fought for every rasped intake of breath.

All of a sudden, he was going too fast for her, she couldn't keep up... she tried to think, but her stupid brain was stuck on one single thought - Dean is alive!

'_He's alive. He's...'_

"Wha- When-" It was jumbled and muffled but enough to make Garrett finally look at her.

She was ashen, her face completely drained of all colour.

"Amy?"

She just gaped back at him.

Something was wrong! Abruptly, he sat up straight; the gauze and bandages tumbling to the floor.

"Amy! Are you ok?"

"I-I..."

"What's wrong? AMY!" He shouted her name and it seemed to jump start her brain.

The first thing it came up with was:

"Where?"

He stared at her quizzically.

It took all of her strength to push out:

"Where is he?"

"Columbus, Nebraska."

And just like that, as if she had springs on her feet, she was up and rushing about the room picking up a jacket and her purse along the way.

"Let's go."

Garrett's confused gawk barely kept up with her.

"What? Where?"

"Nebraska." She towered over him while he still sat on the couch.

"What? Now?!"

Was she serious?

"Amy, it's eleven..."

"So..." She shrugged.

"PM! Plus, it's a ten hour drive!" Garrett pointed out dumbstruck.

"It's ok. We'll take turns. If you want I can take the first shift. Gimme the keys."

He looked at the outstretched hand which materialized in front of him and then down at himself.

"What about my arm? There's still a cut left." He argued.

She gave it a quick glance.

"It's not that deep. It'll heal." She guaranteed anxiously.

"You sure? It looks-"

"Garrett!" She barked. "Who's the doctor here?"

"Um... you?"

"That's right! Now get off your ass and let's go!"

"Don't we need to dress this or something?" He pointedly tilted his head downwards and she was forced to concede.

"Oh, for Christ's sake, you're such a baby. Here."

Picking up a roll of gauze she clumsily wrapped it around his forearm in ten seconds flat.

"There. All better. Keys."

She was up again; hand practically under his nose, with palm side facing the ceiling, she wiggled her restless fingers demandingly.

"Are you ok?" He questioned warily handing her the keys to his car.

"Nope, but I will be once we're on the road." She threw over her shoulder already on her way out the door.

"Hey, wait up! AMY!" He scrambled for his shirt and hissed at the throbbing in his gut. "Jesus!"

He stopped at the threshold and was stumped to find her already behind the wheel.

"Aren't you gonna lock up?" He yelled.

Amy let out a frustrated sigh and stepped out of the car.

The keychain hurled at him missed his head by about an inch.

"Hey! Watch it!"

"Oh, just hurry up!"

It was a good thing Amy lived in the middle of nowhere and had no neighbours 'cause he must have looked pretty damn stupid running half naked and barefoot across her lawn, with his shirt in one hand and his boots in the other.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The second his left foot was inside the truck, the engine revved up. By the time Garrett managed to close the door they were already speeding down the road.

The old pickup jostled loudly, making it near impossible for him to retrieve his duffle bag from the cargo area through the small window in the cabin. After about ten painful groans and five frustrating tries, he eventually succeeded.

Hastily, he shuffled through and fished out a clean shirt, discarding the blood soaked one into the back of the truck along with his bag.

With a hiss, he awkwardly slipped the shirt on. His hands were shaking as he struggled to button up, but convinced himself it was because of the pain brought on by his freshly stitched up wounds. It had nothing to do with the way the pickup was wolfing down the asphalt ahead.

"Um... Amy?" Garrett's voice cracked.

There was no reply. Her eyes were on the road, her hands steady on the steering wheel. Amy? She was somewhere else.

"It's ok to take your foot off the gas every once in a while. The truck won't stop if you do."

"Huh?" She muttered, glancing at him.

Had he said something?

"Maybe you should... I don't know... slow down...?" He offered her a jittery smile.

"Why?"

The front wheel hit a bump in the road causing the truck to steer off its course for an instant, but Amy quickly turned the wheel and they were back in their lane.

Garrett looked at her, pointedly raising both eyebrows and pursing his lips. Amy simply stared back.

"Ok, if you're not gonna slowdown, how about you keep your eyes in that direction?" He suggested pointing forward.

Amy left the sarcastic quip unanswered, but did as she was told.

"So..." Garrett needed to distract himself from the suicidal speeds. "You know the Winchesters?"

Her heart skipped a beat at the query, yet, when she spoke, her tone carried no trace of the anxiety she felt.

"Yeah... they came by the house a few times..."

'_Talk about understatement...'_ Her mind mocked.

Well, she wasn't about to tell Garrett her history with the Winchester boys, the eldest one in particular. First, she wasn't sure she'd be able to concentrate long enough to get through it all. She was still reeling from the information that Dean was alive. And second, talking about it would probably open the door to all sorts of questions which were better left unanswered, especially ones concerning her feelings for Dean, past or present. That was a can of worms she didn't need to deal with right now! It was bad enough that, from the second Garrett had told her about his miraculous return from Hell, her brain insisted on hurling at her all sorts of memories, both good and bad.

Before he could get another word in she changed the subject:

"Does it hurt?"

"The cuts?"

"Yeah..."

"Like a bitch!" Garrett grunted, squirming to find a comfortable position.

The problem was that the truck kept viciously jerking left and right.

"Check my purse. There's something there that will help with the pain." She informed him.

Searching the bag, he quickly found a pill bottle. He tried to read the label, but it was all gibberish for him.

"Take two of those."

"These painkillers?" He asked, popping the two capsules into his mouth and swallowing.

Amy checked her watch. She estimated it would take about ten minutes. All she had to do was avoid the subject for just ten measly minutes and she'd be home free.

"Amy?"

"Um... What?"

"Are these painkillers?" He repeated.

"Um... yeah." She hated lying, partially because she was so bad at it.

She tried to tell herself that, technically, she wasn't lying.

So sedatives didn't exactly qualify as narcotics. But if you're asleep you don't feel pain, right? So, in a way, they also worked as painkillers.

'_Plus, the boy needs a nap.'_ She rationalized.

"Why are you suddenly in a hurry to get to Nebraska? I thought you didn't want to have anything to do with hunting?"

"Maybe you should take another one of those tablets." She completely ignored his questions.

"You sure?" He furrowed his brow checking the label. "Says here you should take one. I already took two."

"You're a big boy." She assured him with all the confidence she could muster.

He shrugged and obediently knocked back the third one.

"You never answered my question."

'_Shit!'_

"Could you pass me my smokes?" She once again shifted the topic of conversation.

He nodded, but instead of taking out her pack, he reached for his own in the back pocket of his jeans. Lighting up two cigarettes he handed her one and kept the other for himself.

"Thanks." She breathed calmly, after the first puff.

For a second, she considered that maybe feeding nicotine into her already wired body probably wouldn't help the already erratic pounding in her chest. She quickly pushed the thought away and focused on keeping Garrett from asking anymore probing questions.

"You're still smoking, huh?"

"Yeah..."

She couldn't think of anything else. Frantically, she searched her mind for something, anything, but the _'Dean's alive'_ mantra hammering inside her head made it near impossible.

Relief washed over her when she heard him yawn.

'_It's about time.'_

"These pills you gave me..." Yawn. "Do they make you sleepy?"

"Um... yeah, it's a side effect."

That sure as hell wasn't a lie. Sedation was unquestionably a side effect of sedatives!

Two minutes later, it was lights out for Garrett Bailey.

With a sigh and a twinge of guilt, she picked up his half-smoked cigarette which threatened to fall into his lap and put it out.

-------------

"We got two more." Ellen supplied grimly setting the phone back on the wall.

"Where?" Sam asked warily.

"Kelly Baulker in Twin Falls and Ian McCarthy in Poole, Georgia." She walked over to the young hunter, watching him insert the information into the computer.

"That makes eleven hunters in four days." He ran his head through his shaggy hair.

"By the looks of it I'm guessing we're not gonna find anything supernatural about those deaths either. One was a single gunshot to the back of the head, the other a slit throat." Ellen explained.

"I don't get it. If it's not demons, who or what is out there killing hunters? I mean, there's nothing connecting the deaths. They're all different MO's. I just don't get it!" Sam let out a distressed pant and Ellen's reassuring hand was on his shoulder.

A screeching sound coming from their left caused them to jolt up. The two relaxed when they saw Dean entering the bar.

"I'll call Frank and Cal to check Poole." She gave Sam's shoulder a light, comforting squeeze before she disappeared behind the counter.

"Any news?" Dean asked shrugging off his leather jacket and taking a seat at the table, opposite his brother.

"Dude, where were you? Hunters are dropping like flies and you decide to pull a Houdini on us?" Sam channelled his misguided frustration towards Dean.

"Nice to see you too, Sammy."

"You don't call, you don't pick up your phone..."

Dean simply grinned back at him.

"Man, you're something..." He puffed.

""I know!" Dean waggled his eyebrows mischievously.

He lounged back in the chair and Sam glared at him.

"What's new?"

"New? We got eleven dead hunters and no clue as to what's responsible for it. Dan Gunther's crew came up with nothing." Sam flailed his arms in defeat.

At that, Dean seemed to sober up.

"What about the one down in Florida? Frank tell you anything?"

The look on Sam's face told him no.

"Come on, man. Give me some good news." Dean sat up and propped his forearms on the table.

"Apparently, Johnny kept his word. We got six guys down in Hudson." Sam offered.

There was a moment of silence in which the two exchanged guarded looks.

"We gotta do something." Sam worded out their thoughts.

"I know. But until we figure out just what is causing this we can't do anything. We already put out an APB on this. By now every single hunter in the country knows about it." Dean argued.

He ran his hand over his cheek and along his jaw line, bringing Sam's attention to the three-day old stub his brother was sporting. Watching him a little more closely he also took in the striking dark circles around his eyes prompting him to probe:

"Where were you, man?"

"Out." The cryptic response was all Sam got out of him.

Standing up, Dean dragged himself across the bar and halfway up the staircase threw over his shoulder:

"I'm takin' a shower."

----------------------------------

Her stomach churned as the truck rushed past the sign which read in bold white letters - "Welcome to Columbus".

Well, they were here. She glanced at a still slumbering Garrett. From his gapping mouth came out light snoring noises, the only sounds disturbing the silence in the cabin.

She really shouldn't have made him take that third tablet. Remorsefully, she tugged at his shirt and he steered a bit. She tried again, applying a little more force, and this time his lids fluttered and he groaned out something incomprehensible.

"We're here." She said softly.

Reluctantly, he straightened up and immediately regretted it as the slight movement brought on a surge of pain centred on his chest wounds.

"Ouch." He grumbled rubbing his eyes and swallowing against a dry throat.

"Where to now?"

Through fuzzy sight he took in his surroundings as they passed by a gas station. From what he could tell they were driving along route 81.

"'kay, lemme see." His voice was gravelly, his Texan accent thick from sleep.

After a few seconds he replied:

"Just head... um... northwest on 81 and turn into NE-22. About half a mile before the railroad crossing you should turn right."

Amy nodded and directed her attention back to the road.

He was still brushing away the slumber from his face when he noticed the steady and low rumbling of the engine.

"Amy?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are we suddenly _Driving_ _Miss_ _Daisy_?" He raised an eyebrow at her.

"I thought you _wanted_ me to slowdown."

Truth was that, as they drew closer to their destination she'd gradually eased her foot off the gas. All of a sudden, she wasn't in such a rush to get to the roadhouse. You would have thought that, after ten hours, she would have had more than enough time to collect her thoughts and process all the information buzzing loudly in her head. She hadn't.

"You're doing 30."

"And?"

"The speed limit is 65."

"What? You suddenly in a hurry?" She retorted with a slight snap.

"Are you ok?" Garrett questioned taking in her tight grip on the steering wheel.

"I'm fine."

Oh, yeah, she sounded just peachy! Fully aware of Amy's volatile temper, Garrett opted not to push the subject.

The stillness that followed made the questions and doubts crowding her brain grow louder. With all the nonchalance she could muster she asked:

"So... you're really planning on joining the..." She stopped herself from saying Winchesters, knowing it would ruin her attempt at casual and settled for: "...fight?"

"Hell yeah! This is the big one. I ain't missin' it." He exclaimed with a broad and overly excited grin.

He really didn't know what he was getting into. Poor kid!

"Do you know what the plan is?" She continued, still trying to figure out how to steer the topic towards the issues she truly cared about.

Topics such as - Was he ok? How did Dean get out? _When_ did he get out and why hadn't he called her? Wait! No! Scratch that last part! She-she didn't care why he hadn't called her! This was the Apocalypse! Of course he didn't call her! He was too busy doing... you know... whatever hunters do when the Devil's out of hell, prancing around and-

'_Oh God, just shut up!'_

'_You shut up!'_

"...three weeks ago I kinda thought it was a hoax, but over the last five days nine hunters have been killed. So something's definitely up." She caught the last part of Garrett's explanation.

So, three weeks, huh? He'd been back for three weeks and he hadn't called? Not even to say he was ok?

'_That's just-'_

'_It's not pathetic! It's a valid question!'_

The mental bickering between the proud and the oestrogen-soaked parts of her brain carried on.

"It's been four weeks since...?" She trailed off.

"... the Winchesters' bang up job at stopping the Apocalypse? Yep, four weeks." Garrett rolled his eyes. "I mean, it's not like they were short on time, or anything." He puffed.

Amy frowned and was about to speak when Garrett pointed out:

"Turn left here."

She stopped at the crossroad and then turned into NE-22.

"What do you mean?"

"Huh?" He mumbled, momentarily distracted as he was checking the road map.

"About the time thing?"

Garrett failed to answer her query, focussed once again on giving her directions.

"Turn right here."

She did it and was about to utter something when Garrett blurted:

"I think that's it!"

Her eyes followed his pointing finger. In the distance she made out the fuzzy outline of a small wooden building to her left. Her knuckles paled around the wheel as they approached, and the image became clearer. Despite the muddy windshield, she recognized Bobby's 68 Ford F-350 parked in front of the house. Perched on the dust covered bonnet and licking its paws, was Rumsfeld, the hunter's Rottweiler. Its large head shot up to attention as Amy pulled up.

Her heart seemed to want to pound its way out of her chest and it was with a trembling hand that she pulled the handle on the break.

She jumped at the sound of the side door slamming shut. Garrett was already out of the truck. She was still behind the wheel, willing her jelly legs to move and her pulse to slowdown.

'_Get a grip on yourself!'_ She mentally slapped herself into control.

She got the door to open and exited the vehicle. Before she could make sure her knees weren't going to buckle out from under her Rumsfeld was off the truck and charging towards her.

"Amy! Watch out!" Garrett shouted rushing towards her.

She let out a yelp followed by a gasped huff as two giant black paws landed on her chest, knocking her back against the side of the pickup. Suddenly, a wet, slimy, pink tongue was lapping at her face.

Garrett faltered in his stride at the vigorous tale waggling.

"Rums- Oh God! Down! Rumsfeld, down!" Amy struggled, but the monstrous dog wouldn't let up.

"He likes you."

"Um... a little help would be- Rumsfeld, no!- Jesus!- Rumsfeld!"

She could hear Garrett's whole-hearted laughter.

"Will you get him off of me?!" She hissed ineptly fighting off the dog's overenthusiastic greeting. "Bailey!"

The use of his surname made him stifle his laughter and come to her aid.

The moment he made a move towards her though, Rumsfeld dropped down on all fours and immediately settled into an attack position. What started as a slight twitching at the corner of his mouth, quickly escalated into menacing growling.

With arms boastfully crossed over her chest, Amy leaned back and enjoyed the turning of the tables.

"Um... help, please?"

"Not so funny now, huh?" She mocked.

"Amy..." Garrett muttered as low as he could and without moving an inch, knowing full well that any shift could trigger a response from the Rottweiler.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was in fact just about ten seconds of absolute terror, Amy appeared satisfied. She crouched down and called out:

"Rummy, here, Rummy."

The dog's reaction was instant as he quickly returned to trying to lick Amy's face off.

"Good boy, good-ouch!" She shrieked losing her balance under the dog's assault and landing on her ass.

Garrett's chuckle was immediately suppressed at Amy's deadly glare. Dusting herself off and keeping Rumsfeld at bay, she got up.

"Nice dog. He knows you." It was a statement, not a question.

Garrett knew enough about dogs to realise that this one not only knew, but loved Amy.

"Yeah... He's Bobby's."

"Bobby Singer? You know him too?"

She nodded.

"Then how come you didn't know 'bout everything that's been going on over the last year?"

Tucking her hair behind her ear she petted Rumsfeld's squared head. Boy was she glad he was there! This way she had the perfect excuse not to meet Garrett's quizzical stare.

"We... We kinda lost touch after I gave up on the whole hunter-patching up business." She kept her eyes on the dog, but knew this wasn't going to last long.

Sooner or later, Garrett was going to want to go into the bar and by the looks of it, it was former.

"You comin'?"

'_Crap_!'

"Yea-"

'_A squeak? Really? Now's not the time for squeaking!'_

She cleared her throat and tried again.

"Yeah..."

Half-heartedly, she began walking up to the bar. Rumsfeld gingerly skipped after her. Her jittery gaze wandered over the surrounding area. It leaped from the sign which read simply Harvelle's, to the front porch below it and finally to Bobby's truck again. She noticed a few extra dents on the hood and shook her head. The smile which was attempting to creep its way onto her lips froze solid, as did the rest of her body when, from behind the blue truck, she caught a glimpse of black metal.

Memories slammed into her and she jerked at the sight of the Impala.

If it was there... so was he. In about ten seconds... she was going to see him. She was going to see-

'_Oh, God__,__ I can't do this!'_

Her brain went on overdrive, hurling questions, images, suffocating feelings and everything else at her, to the point at which breathing became an issue.

"Amy?"

Garrett's voice pierced through all the noise and her brain halted abruptly on two bits of information - apparently, Dean and Sam had had some time to stop the seals from being broken and something had been happening for at least one year.

"Wait! Wha-What-"

She mentally kicked herself for her ridiculous stuttering. Giving up on full sentences she settled for:

"A year?"

Garrett paused, confused for a moment.

"Happening for a year?" She tried again pinning him with her eyes.

She still wasn't making much sense, but he kind of figured out what she meant.

"Yeah, this whole thing started when Dean came back from the pit."

A powerful pang hit her chest.

"A year?" She set her jaw and pushed out: "He's been back... for a _year_?"

"Give or take a month." Garrett shrugged.

A bark from Rumsfeld kick started her ability to move and she was turning on her heels and storming away from the roadhouse.

"Amy?! Amy, where you goin'?" Garrett bellowed.

Shit! He was never going to let her leave.

Despite the intense rage raging through her veins she managed to come up with a lie:

"You go on ahead! I just forgot my wallet."

"Why do you need-"

She whirled around and his eyes widened at the look on her face coupled with a threatening roar:

"Garrett, just go! I'll be right there!"

"O-kay..." He slurred, but did as he was told.

**Author's note:**

Thank you, you guys so much for reviewing. I'm so glad to see Amy (an original character, especially a female one) being so accepted by you. ;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**Author's note: **

First off, just let me say thanks to all of you guys who have been reading this fic. Thanks for all the kind words and reviews, especially Whinchestergirl and Emma. Thanks ;)

Now off to the chapter. It's a short one, but...

The small bell attached to the edge of the front door rang out announcing Garrett's arrival and Ellen looked up from the counter she was wiping down.

"Morning, m'am." He greeted with a sly smile and a head tilt.

Ellen replied with a dubious single eyebrow lift and a grumbled:

"Morning."

She was, after all, a hunter's wife, and as such wary of strangers, especially ones who waltzed into her bar with that kind of swagger in their stride and crooked grin on their face.

"Can I get you anything, kid?" She questioned.

At the use of the word kid his expression sobered. He sat on one of the many stools framing the counter and, dropping his tone down an octave, he ordered:

"Whiskey. Flat."

Ellen's brow shot up once more.

"At ten in the morning? Don't think so. How about a glass of milk?"

Realising that snapping at her wasn't the best way to start off a relationship with the Roadhouse crew, he swallowed back the annoyance creeping up inside him and tried again:

"How about a beer?"

"How about some ID?" She retorted promptly.

'_Gotcha!'_ She thought at Garrett's desolate look.

Just then, a tall man, with dishevelled hair walked into the bar. He came from the back room carrying with him a large sandwich on a plate. He faltered in his stride when he caught a glimpse of the new arrival.

"Hey." He jutted out his chin acknowledging Garrett who, in turn, replied with a slight nod. "Morning, Ellen."

"Morning, Sam."

'_So, this is Sam Winchester...'_ Garrett figured.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Ellen offered walking over to the other arm of the counter where Sam had sat down.

"OJ."

Ellen gave him a smile and within two minutes he had a fresh glass of orange juice in front of him.

"Thanks."

"Welcome." Ellen returned to her cleaning while Sam pretended to be completely absorbed by the contents of the newspaper he'd laid out in front of him.

Garrett wasn't fooled by this. He had been a hunter long enough to know when he was being watched.

"Winchester?" He spoke.

The sandwich stopped a few inches short of Sam's mouth as he looked up. Returning his untouched food to the plate he gave the boy a nod and waited for him to introduce himself.

Standing and sauntering over to Sam he offered him his right hand and a name:

"Garrett Bailey."

Guardedly, Sam shook his hand. The extra strength Garrett applied to the greeting didn't go by unnoticed.

"I'm a hunter. I hear you guys are recruiting?" He went straight to the point.

Before Sam could reply though, a booming voice coming from behind him cut him off:

"Thanks, but no thanks, kid."

The two looked back to see Dean at the end of the staircase. Freshly showered, his hair was wet and he finished with the top button of his shirt just as he reached the gaping duo.

"Don't call me _kid_." Garrett gritted, the overall disdainful attitude from the group taking its toll on him. "I might look young, but I'm a pretty damn good hunter."

A chuckle reverberated loudly throughout the bar and Garrett had to fist his hands to stop himself from lunging at Dean.

Oblivious or simply ignoring the boy's anger, Dean strutted lazily around his brother, kidnapping Sam's sandwich on his way. This earned him a flabbergasted: "Dude, what the...!" which Dean promptly ignored, taking a healthy bite.

He came to stand in front of Garrett and with a mouthful, he chewed out:

"I'm sure you're good, but this ain't day care, _kid_."

Though Dean was a tall man, Garrett beat him by at least four inches and he used this to his advantage, straightening to his full height to tower over the shorter hunter.

Dean, however, remained unimpressed and continued to merrily wolf down Sam's food until his brother promptly snatched it back.

"Hey, I wasn't done with that!" Dean pouted.

"Get your own sandwich!" Sam barked back.

"Bitch!"

"Jerk."

"Ellen!" Dean bellowed, despite the fact that the bar owner couldn't be more than three feet away.

She didn't even bother to look up from the shot glasses she was lining up as she blurted:

"This isn't a B&B either, boy. I ain't making you breakfast."

Dean sulked and plopped down next to his brother.

"And if you used up all my hot water, so help you God."

Dean shrank in the stool under Ellen's threatening glare.

"Did Frank call?" He hastily asked Sam, trying to change the subject.

Completely ignored by everyone in the room, Garrett frowned.

What was wrong with these people? He knew they were shorthanded as it was and they were telling him no?

"Nope." Sam popped the 'p' and slapped Dean's hand away when he attempted to reach for his plate yet again.

"Ouch!"

"Kitchen's that way!" Sam pointed, never looking up from his newspaper.

Garrett cleared his throat and Dean threw him a bored sideways glance.

"You're still here, huh?"

"Yeah, _still_ here." Garrett wasn't hiding his aggravation anymore.

Letting out a sigh, Dean stood up.

"Look, why don't you just go home? This isn't your fight."

"Like hell it isn't! This is everyone's fight, or haven't you heard hunters are being-"

"Yeah, yeah, we know. We're on it, thanks." Dean interrupted him patronizingly.

"You're _on it?_ Oh, I'm so relieved." Garrett ridiculed. "I'm sure you're gonna do a kick ass job, just like you did with the whole Apocalypse thing. Oh! Wait! You kinda dropped the ball on that one, didn't you?" He continued in spite of the way Dean was staring daggers up at him. "And that's pretty much how you ended up here, right? Needing other hunters' help? Hunters like me?"

The muscle in Dean's jaw twitched as he reigned in the urge to smack this cocky kid over the head.

"You done havin' a hissy fit?" He bit out.

Garrett matched his glare.

"Good. Go home."

"I ain't-" Garrett froze, suddenly staring down at the barrel of a gun.

Boy, he was fast!

Garret mentally replayed Dean's blurred movements. In a fraction of a second, he'd reached back and fished out the weapon which was currently aimed at his face.

"Tell me, golden boy, if you're so kickass how come I got the drop on you?" Dean beamed haughtily.

"'Cause you're fast..."

At the seemingly flattering comment Dean made the mistake of relaxing. Garrett's swift reaction left him and everyone gobsmacked and frozen in place - Ellen behind the bar, Sam in his seat and Dean? Well, at present, he was pinned down on the counter, chest first, cheek squashed against the flat surface and he was pretty sure the feel of cold metal at the nape of his neck was a result of his own piece being pressed against it.

"... but I'm faster, grandpa." Garrett concluded.

Sam and Ellen gawked incredulous.

"What the hell's going on here?"

Everyone turned as Bobby walked into the room. Garret's hold on Dean loosened and he seized the opportunity to free himself.

"Gimme that!" He snapped, grabbing the gun from Garrett. "Everything's fine. Junior wanted to join but turns out auditions are closed. He's leavin'."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Garrett roared.

"I'm the guy organizing this little party and I say - you're not invited."

"What's your name, boy?"

Boy? Kid? Why was everyone on condescending nickname wagon? He was twenty, for crying out loud!

Albeit seriously annoyed, Garrett refrained from clashing with the cap wearing man and answered:

"Garrett Bailey."

"You related to Josh Bailey?"

Ellen, Sam and Dean watched the exchange.

"He was my uncle. You knew him?"

"Yeah. Name's Bobby Singer." He supplied and the two shook hands.

"Never heard of you." Garrett lied, his uncle had mentioned the old hunter on more than one occasion.

"Same here." Bobby faced Dean and demanded: "Why can't he join? It's obvious he can handle himself."

Garrett seemed to grow a couple of inches at the remark.

"I'm not gonna have some snot nosed kid covering my ass." Dean was adamant.

"Looked to me like he was _kickin'_ your ass. Can't see why he can't cover it." Bobby shrugged.

"He's a kid!" Dean pointed out exasperated, causing Garrett to snap:

"Can you all just stop calling me kid? And while we're at it, can we drop the whole '_ass'_ thing. It's making me really uncomfortable."

"I'm not gonna have his death on my head." Dean continued.

"I'm here because I wanna be. You're not responsible for me." Garret argued.

Dean looked around for back up, but even Sam appeared to side with the young hunter.

"I guess that settles it. You're in." Bobby decided and Dean nearly choked.

"You hungry?" Ellen came over to question.

Dean's eyes bulged out and he practically whined:

"How come he gets to eat?"

"You get to eat to. Plenty of food in the kitchen." Ellen replied dismissively and addressed Garrett: "Now, how about a turkey sandwich?"

"That'd be great, thanks."

Garrett took a seat next to Sam while Dean waved his arms in defeat and grumpily trudged away from them. He settled in front of the computer on one of the tables and Bobby caught up with him.

"Dean, we need all the help we can get. We can't afford to just say no to every hunter that comes through that door just 'cause their young. Their necks are already on the line just for being hunters; might as well have him close by so we can keep an eye on him.

Dean grumbled something along the lines of _great_ under his breath, but didn't argue.

Damn Bobby for being so reasonable!

"Look, I can't say I vouch for the kid, but I knew his uncle. Josh? Good man, solid hunter; got me out of some tight spots a couple of times back in the day."

"You've made your point, Bobby." Dean groused, burying his gaze in the flashing screen as the older hunter walked away.

By the time he joined the two boys at the bar, Ellen had already returned with Garrett's food.

"Can I have another one?"

Garrett's request elicited a puzzled look from all three.

"O-oh, it's not for me. It's for my friend, she's..." Garrett trailed off noticing for the first time that Amy still hadn't arrived. "... I should go check on her."

He left but five minutes later he was storming back into the place announcing:

"She's gone."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

With the exception of Dean, who dismissively ignored Garrett's outburst, everyone turned to the jittery hunter. He paced around, frantically pressing the keys on his PDA.

"Calm down. What do you mean she's gone?" Sam stood up, abandoning his breakfast to check on Garrett. "Did she say anything?"

"She was just gonna get her wallet or somethin'..." He paused at the audible _puff_ coming from Dean.

Though he didn't look up from the laptop, Garrett still sent him a murderous glare before he carried on:

"It took us 10 hours to get here! Why would she just up and leave like that?"

"Beats me, but I'm guessing 10 hours stuck in a car with boy wonder might have had something to do with it."

All eyes were on Dean. He simply grinned back, clearly satisfied by the pissed off look on Garrett's face.

"Dude! You're not helping!" Sam scolded.

"What? She could have snapped!" Dean replied with feigned innocence. Dropping his gaze back to the screen he added under his breath: "I know I woulda."

Garrett was about to march his way towards Dean, but Sam anticipated his move and stepped in his path hastily asking:

"Do you think somethin' might have happened to her?"

The Texan's glower remained on Dean for a couple of seconds, but eventually settled back on Sam.

"I don't know." He sighed, obviously distressed. "I tried calling her, but her cell's off, so I activated the GPS in my truck."

"Good, that's good." Sam made use of his trademark soothing tone. "Where is it?"

"It's heading east on route 30." Garrett announced after checking the small device in his hand.

"Ok, ok, don't worry." Sam assured him walking over to Dean.

The older Winchester looked up to find his brother's outstretched hand. His eyes bounced from Sam's face to his palm and back again.

"I need the keys to the Impala."

Dean cocked an eyebrow at him:

"Come again?"

"Don't be a douche bag, just giv'em to me."

"No way, man. You're not taking my baby." Dean refused vehemently.

His resolve, however, crumbled when he caught sight of Ellen's scowl. It was pathetic. Really, it was. After years of hunting down and coming face to face with the most terrifying creatures on earth and _hell_, that woman still managed to scare the bejesus out of him.

"Ok, fine!" He grumbled.

With a half pout, he grabbed the keys from the front pocket of his jeans and reluctantly handed them over.

"But he's paying for the gas!" Dean bellowed at Sam and Garrett's hurriedly retreating forms.

When the two disappeared, Dean got up and made a straight line for Garrett's untouched sandwich. Bringing it to his mouth he bit off a large chunk and chewing lively he issued a muffled mock:

"She dumps the guy and steals his ride? I'm startin' to like this chic."

Finding himself once more on the receiving end of Ellen's frown he exclaimed: "What? It's not like he's gonna eat it." and merrily went back to stuffing his face.

When he was done with Garrett's food he started in on Sam's half eaten sandwich and both Ellen and Bobby simply shook their heads in defeat.

-----------

They had been driving at buzzing speed for the last hour and still hadn't managed to shorten the distance between the Impala and the pickup.

"Can't this chunk of metal go any faster?" Garrett let out his frustration; his nervous glance bouncing back and forth between the speedometer and his PDA.

"Ok, word of advice? Don't ever, _ever_ say that around Dean." Sam warned.

"Sorry, it's just... First, she's in a hurry to get to the roadhouse and when she gets there suddenly she... She was acting so strange." Garrett thought out loud.

"Where's the pickup now?"

Garrett checked the PDA.

"Just past Blue Springs."

"It's in Missouri, already?! What kind of truck is this?" Sam questioned stunned.

"It's not so much the truck. It's the insane woman _driving_ it." Garrett sighed. "She's heading east on I-70. Probably going back home."

Sam's brow furrowed as he mentally pictured the journey they'd travelled so far. He had to admit it was a pretty familiar itinerary. An absurd thought crossed his mind as he glanced at Garrett, who was still clinging to the PDA as if his life depended on it.

'_Nah... can't be.'_

Sure, he'd heard the expression that the world was a small place. But, come on! It wasn't _that_ small!

Still doubtful, he probed:

"Um... and where exactly is home?"

"Griffin, Indiana."

What seemed to Garrett like a trivial bit of information was enough to send Sam into a violent coughing fit as he choked on his own spit.

"You ok?" He asked, eyeing Sam warily. The guy was turning purple.

Ineptly, Sam panted out a couple more coughs and eventually caught his breath to let out a strangled and unconvincing '_yeah'_.

He felt Garrett's scrutinizing stare on him, all the while his brain was still adjusting to the possibility that the _insane_ _woman_ they were chasing could be none other than Amy Carrington.

In the back of his mind, though, he still had a smidgen of hope that this was just one, big coincidence so, as casually as he could muster, he uttered:

"So... this friend of yours, is she a hunter or somethin'?"

"Puff, no way! She's a doctor."

'_Of course she is! Shit! It's Amy.'_

Thankfully, Garrett seemed to be too caught up in the absurdity of the suggestion to notice that Sam was now turning a frightening shade of white.

"She says she knows you guys. Amy? Amy Carrington? Ring a bell?"

Oh, it rang a bell, alright! And more than one! At that moment there were about twenty bells ringing in Sam's head, each one couple with a daunting realisation of its own. Sam was at a loss as to which one to focus on first.

Amy probably knew about everything! And that everything certainly included the fact that Dean was back. How else would one explain her erratic behaviour? How long had she known? Had Garrett told her? Was she ok with this? Was she angry? Happy? Shit! Amy had driven all the way up to the roadhouse. She'd been about fifty yards away from them. She had- Oh, man, Dean was going to have a coronary when he found out!

"Sam?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah! Um... We-I, We-we've crossed paths before." He stuttered clumsily.

"She also knows Dean, right?"

'_Oh, she __definitely knows Dean!'_ A voice screamed in Sam's brain, but he opted for a more controlled: "Yep.", popping the 'p'.

There was silence in the cabin for the next few minutes. Garrett resumed staring at his PDA while Sam let his mind wander to the past.

_He walked around the car as Dean spoke into the cell phone:_

"_What the hell's going on here, Bobby? Why do a bunch of ghosts suddenly wanna gank off-duty hunters?"_

_He was already inside the Impala when Dean finished the conversation:_

"_We're on our way."_

_Silently, they set off. The map was laid out in his lap and Sam frown when at a crossroads, instead of turning left his brother veered the wheel to the right._

"_Where're you goin'? Bobby's is that way."_

"_I know."_

_The cryptic reply was met by Sam's creased forehead. He looked down at the map and tried to figure out on his own what was going through Dean's mind. Finding the motorway they were travelling on, his eyes followed along the blue line until they came across the small town a few miles northwest of Evansville, Indiana._

_When he glanced at his brother, he was gripping the wheel tightly and after ten quiet seconds the older of the Winchester's finally caved under the pressure and blurted:_

"_I just wanna check to see if she's ok. We're not even gonna go inside."_

That had been the first and only time Dean had voluntarily mentioned Amy after his return. Before that, Sam had attempted to bring up the sore topic the day Dean had appeared on the doorstep of his hotel room - alive and kicking.

He hadn't even been able to finish his sentence. Once Amy's name had come out of his mouth Dean had instantly gone rigid and had curtly barked out:

"_No.__"_

"_What? What do you mean-"_

"_I don't want _her_ anywhere near this-this- Whatever the hell is going on here! You hear me?" Dean was pacing around and shaking his head heatedly._

"_So what? You're not gonna tell her-"_

_Dean was in his face._

"_No. No I'm not. And neither are you."_

_Sam let out a nervous chuckle at the ridiculousness of it._

"_Dean! She's gonna find out sooner or later."_

"_Not if you and Bobby keep your pie holes zipped up." _

_He examined Dean's face. He was dead serious and there was no deterring him from his decision._

"_You're really gonna let her think you're..."_

"_Yes. If it keeps her from getting hurt... yeah."_

That had been the last they'd spoken about it until the rising of the witnesses. But Hendrickson's attack on Sam and Bobby's failure to pick up his phone had forced them to abandon their detour and make a U-turn towards South Dakota.

Later that day, Dean had called in a favour with a local hunter in Indiana. And that had been when they'd found out about Amy's withdrawal from the supernatural world.

This turn of events seemed to only reinforce Dean's resolution to keep away from the young doctor.

During the rest of that year, the few times the subject of Amy had come up, Dean had promptly refused to talk about it. Almost every time he'd pathetically try to hide his feelings, either by burying himself in a hunt or by hooking up with the nearest available female he could find. But Sam could see through the feeble facade. On occasion, he'd walk in unannounced into their motel room and would find Dean staring blankly into the distance, with a dark, unmistakable expression on his face.

Little by little, with all the chaotic events of the last couple of months, the painful memories had drifted into the background. And now that his brother seemed finally to have found some semblance of peace - Amy Carrington was back in their lives.

**AN:**

If you want you can check the trailer I made for this fic on You Tube (/watch?v=NZCSDS8CgQQ).

Emma, yep I figured it was you. ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

At the sound of the bell, her stare drifted from her own bloodshot eyes, reflected back at her from the hallway mirror, to the door. Figuring it was the pizza delivery, she crossed the large foyer, picking up her purse on the way over to the front door. It creaked a little when she opened it and she made a mental note to fix that. The reminder was quickly forgotten at the sight of a breathless Garrett standing at her doorstep.

"What are you doing here?" She asked stunned.

"I think that's my line." He retorted, unable to hide the hint of irritation in his voice.

"Oh." Was her guilty comeback.

"What happened?"

"I-I remembered I'm on call tomorrow morning." She faltered at the lie. "I didn't have anyone to fill in for me. Sorry. But you didn't have to come all the way over here, you could have called." She argued.

"I did. But your phone's off." He grumbled.

"Oh... Still..."

"And you took my truck."

With her arguments completely throttled she gave him her best childlike '_oops'_ look and piped up:

"Right..."

Under the effect of her pout, any trace of annoyance in his demeanour vanished. Sometimes the boy's crush on her had its advantages.

Sluggishly, the cogs in her sleep-deprived brain began turning and eventually supplied her with another doubt.

"Wait, if I've got your truck, how'd you..." She trailed off as her gaze drifted over his shoulder.

She almost staggered back at the sight. Though her vision was blurred from hunger and exhaustion, the dark metallic shape partially hidden in the hues of the moonless night was instantly recognizable to her.

'_Oh, god.'_

He was here?

Her heart leaped to her throat, her hands began to shake and a thin sheen of sweat covered her palms.

'_He's here.'_

She coaxed herself to grab onto the threshold of the doorway when her knees threatened to buckle from under her. She couldn't.

'_He's-Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god.'_

The door on the driver's side started to open. Instinct for self preservation kicked into high gear and all she wanted was to slam the door on everything, rush up upstairs and disappear under the covers of her bed. Instead, she remained paralyzed, waiting...

"Sam gave me a ride."

Amy's eye snapped to Garrett and when they returned to the Impala, sure enough, there he was - Sam Winchester.

She wasn't sure if the pang she felt was out of relief or disappointment.

She watched him walk over and the measly forty yards seemed to drag on for an eternity under the scrutiny of his gaze. It never left her face, even as he took the porch steps in pairs.

He looked taller than she remembered and... bigger. The width of his shoulders contrasted strangely with the narrowness of his hips and legs, more so than it did before. When she finally gathered the courage to meet his stare she took in the changes in his features. He looked older, worn out. And it wasn't just because of the extra wrinkles marring his Sun kissed forehead or the two day old stubble he was sporting. She couldn't really suss out what it was, but she knew it was something in his eyes.

"Hello, Amy." His voice was uncharacteristically low.

Sam had always been the gloomier of the two Winchester boys, but his sadness had a soft, nostalgic trait to it. Now, it was different; darker and graver somehow, bearing the weight of experience that wasn't there before.

"Hi..." She pushed out weakly, after swallowing hard against a parched throat.

Garrett's eyes bounced back and forth between Amy and Sam. The tension was unmistakable and it became clear to him that their connection wasn't as flimsy as Amy had hinted.

There was definitely a history between them. A long one. And Garrett was willing to bet that it had played a major part in Amy's erratic behaviour over the last twenty four hours.

"Somebody order a pizza?"

All three jolted at the question and turned to find a red uniform wearing teen standing at the edge of the porch.

"Oh, yeah. I-I did." Amy hastily pushed past between the two hunters and with shaky hands managed to pay the boy and get her dinner. "Thanks."

On nervous, wobbly legs, she walked back inside inviting the newly arrived duo to follow her.

-------------------------

"Dean!"

His eyes snapped from the drink he was nursing to Bobby.

"You hear anything I said?"

"Um... sure... yeah..." Dean mumbled ineptly, dropping his gaze again.

"Look at me, boy."

Reluctantly, he did as he was told.

"You alright?" Bobby's concern was evident.

"I'm fine." He grumbled with a shrug.

"You sure? You've been kinda spaced out ever since you came back from... well, wherever you were." Bobby argued.

"I said I'm fine." Dean repeated a little more forcefully.

What Bobby heard, was a loud and clear - _'Drop it! I don't wanna talk about it.' _So he didn't say a word, watching Dean swig back what was left of his whiskey before he got off the stool and stomped out of the bar.

"That boy is _definitely_ _not_ fine." Bobby threw at Ellen who had up until now remained silent, drying glasses behind the counter.

The two exchanged a knowing look; both wondering what was up with the young hunter, both failing to find an explanation for his mood.

He rubbed his eyes trying to stubbornly convince himself that the burden pressing down on his chest was just fatigue. He'd been on the road for the better half of the last three days, covering over twelve hundred miles in the process. Who wouldn't be tired?

His brain quickly provided him with an alternate justification for the constricting sensation, but it was one Dean wasn't ready to face yet. So he pushed the thought back and stared at the dark, gravelly path that lead to the roadhouse.

The small lamp perched on the framing of the porch was the only source of light and its dim glow was restricted to a three feet radius, leaving the surrounding area swallowed up by the night.

He ran his hand through his ruffled hair as the suffocating feeling refused to relent. If anything it grew. It knotted in his throat as the voice in his brain insisted on pushing the issue he so desperately tried to ignore.

Who the hell drives twelve hundred miles just to camp outside a girl's house?

The image of her door opening flashed in his mind's eyes and just as it had two days ago, his breath hitched at the powerful spasm in his gut.

Shielded by the dense shrubbery, he'd sat in the car and just watched her... Sitting on those steps, her black clad silhouette looked so small and fragile, framed by the massive white columns of her mansion. He'd closed his eyes, fighting the urge to storm out of the car and march up to her. It was always there. Every single time he'd secretly come to check on her. He thought that over time, it would fade; this insane impulse to just throw caution to the wind and just... It never did.

Standing outside the roadhouse, he now wondered what the hell had possessed him to do it? Why did he have to go back there now? Four months! Four _freaking_ months of staying away from her and he had to ruin it all at the first sign of trouble. Yes, hunters were being targeted, but she wasn't one, and she'd stayed clear of anything related to hunting for the last year. She was safe! He didn't have to check on her. He didn't have to drive _twelve_ _hundred_ miles, back and forth, just to dig up old feelings. Feelings which were best left undisturbed. Why did he have to open up that wound? He'd promised himself, four months ago, that it would be the last time. Why? For God's sake why did he have to-

'_Stupid, dim-witted__, idiot-'_

He punctuated his mental swearing with a single blow to the blameless porch frame he'd been leaning into. The blood began trickling from his knuckles the second his frustrated fist connected with the hard wood and he took solace in the painful sting, as it momentarily overshadowed the throbbing in his chest.

Relief was short lived though. In a few seconds, the soreness in his hand faded and he was left with just the choking sensation.

He had to get rid of this. He needed to find a way to just forget he'd ever made the monumental mistake of going to Griffin. All day long he'd tried everything. He'd buried himself in his work, checking the computer every couple of minutes for news, scouring books and everything he could get his hands on just to keep himself busy.

When that didn't work, he resorted to the time old tradition of getting shitfaced. Ellen, however, had wrecked that little plan after he'd guzzled down an entire bottle of whiskey.

Although he was closer to drunk than sober, it still didn't seem enough.

It was still there and it stung like hell.

Distant headlights caught his attention and he recognized the blue 69 Road Runner as it drew closer.

_That_ was exactly what he needed. She would make him forget.

Research didn't work, alcohol had failed too. Sex had to do the trick.

A smirk took over Reggie's lips at the sight of him standing at the front porch.

With ease, she turned the wheel and parked the car alongside Bobby's truck, trapping the banged up Ford between her Plymouth and the roadhouse.

"You're back." She made use of her sultry tone, slamming the car door shut.

He didn't utter a single word, simply trudged straight at her. Her brow furrowed at the intense look on his face as he quickly closed in on her. Never stopping, he charged at her. His right hand locked under her ear, hauling her in for a bruising kiss, while his body pushed forward, causing her to stagger back.

She lost her balance as the back of her legs connected with cold metal and toppled onto the blue hood. He didn't give her a chance to recover and her stunned brain had difficulty assimilating the details of his fast and erratic assault on her. Impatient lips and teeth licked and bit at her mouth, making it nearly impossible for her to draw in air. She was only aware that the fastening of her jeans was undone, when she felt callous fingers half hazardously shoving themselves between her skin and the cotton of her underwear.

She tore her mouth away from him for a desperate gasp at the feel of his hand between her legs.

When she was finally able to focus her eyes, she looked down to find her shirt had been ripped open and Dean's face was currently buried in her chest.

The hand that had been holding her face up to his was now busy pushing the cup of her bra out of the way. He palmed her left breast gruffly, bringing it to his keen mouth and angrily lapped and sucked, going so far as to sink his teeth into the tender skin. She let out a whimpered grunt at the soreness and he responded by driving a single finger into her. The unexpected rush of pleasure caused her to jolt up and he continued worrying the dark pebble of flesh with his lips.

Dean had never been the cuddling type; the few times in which she sensed any tenderness during their little trysts were fleeting at best. Their encounters were usually frenzied and marked with lust and passion. But tonight, his behaviour was more than ravenous. It was urgent, bordering on desperation. All she could do was hold on.

One palm flat on the hood, the other clinging onto his hair, she mewled at the added pressure of a second finger pushing inside her. His frantic need was contagious and she was now restlessly bucking her hips into his hands.

Tired of struggling with the constrictions of her bra, he brusquely pulled at the white fabric until one of the straps snapped, freeing her breast. With free access Dean squeezed the soft mound, trailing open-mouth kisses over her crimson tinted skin, leaving angry red marks in his tracks. But Reggie didn't seem to care; she was too wrapped up in the busy fingers labouring between her thighs. She nearly wept when, all off a sudden, that skilful touch vanished. Reggie hadn't yet fully recovered from the loss and he was already impatiently pulling at her jeans, tugging them down.

Why did women have to wear such stupidly tight clothes, anyway?

Eventually, the denim ended up bunched around her ankles.

Gripping her waist, with one sharp yank he lugged her closer, positioning himself between her awkwardly bent legs.

For some reason, he couldn't bring himself to meet her gaze. Burrowing his face into the nape of her neck, he slipped inside her and she bit into his shoulder to keep from crying out.

Though partially concealed by Bobby's truck and safely veiled from probing eyes by the shadows, they were still relatively within earshot.

His hips surged and he desperately clung to her. But still that smothering sting refused to yield. It just wouldn't go away. He just wanted it to go away, damn it!

In his frustration, his movements became more aggressive. Urgently, he thrust back and forth, grimacing into her neck in an absurd combination of pleasure and anger; anger at himself for being unable to get that _infuriating_, _stubborn_, _god_ _damn_ woman out of his head, anger at _her_ for haunting him this way.

Nails digging into his back and warm, drenched muscles fluttering around his hard length yanked him back to reality in time to hear Reggie moan her release against his shoulder. Soon after and almost automatically, he followed suit. Their combined pants melded with the chirping of crickets as the two fell limply against the hood of the muscle car.

Worn out and physically exhausted, he seemed to have finally achieved a semblance of serenity. And, for an instant, all he could feel was the burden of his own body as he slanted towards Reggie. But that was all he got for his effort - an instant. By the second intake of breath, the moonlit image of her sitting on her front porch, bracing herself against the fresh Summer breeze, came rushing back to him, bringing with it the suffocating feeling he'd so desperately tried to erase.

**Author's note:**

I know most of you are probably pissed and angry at Dean's reaction and before you go all postal on the reviews or decide to quit reading this fic just bear in mind a couple of things.

Though, I myself, am not happy with Dean boinking Reggie, I still believe that this is the screwed up way he would find to deal with the emotional turmoil he's going through.

In his heart, he wants to keep Amy safe from his world and all the dangers that come with it (for crying out loud! the woman almost died because of him. Ok, not because of him exactly, but because of their connection.). And you know Dean; he'll do anything, _anything!_ to protect the ones he loves. He'll die for them, he'll sell his soul and yes, he'll even give them up, like he did with Amy.

Problem is that when you die or sell your soul and end up in hell the situation is pretty much solved. With Amy... well, it's different, he has to make the effort, every day to stay away from her. Every single day! And he was actually doing a relatively well; he thought he'd moved on. Sure it still stung, but he was dealing with it.

Going down to Griffin and seeing her again just screwed everything up. Now he has to start over from scratch. What had dimmed down to a sting is now an open wound that hurts like hell. He knows that the only way to make it go away is to see her and tell her the truth, but if he wants her safe... he can't do that.

So what does he do? In typical Dean fashion he moronically turns to meaningless physical connections. Because in his head, he's never gonna be with Amy, ever again! So what? He's supposed to remain perfectly celibate for the rest of his life? No! He's gonna lie to himself, he's gonna screw every single woman he comes across either in a pathetic attempt to convince himself that he's over her or just to feel something other than the pain.

Well, that's pretty much the way I see it.

I hope that helps you deal with this chapter and hope you keep reading and enjoying this fic.

Kudos.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

All three sat around the kitchen table in gut wrenching stillness. At least that's what it felt like to Sam and Amy. Both were still working on their first portion of pizza, awkwardly trying to avoid each other. Garrett, on the other hand, remained gloriously oblivious to the discomfort, merrily starting in on his third slice and already eyeing a fourth one.

Though Sam had taken a couple of half-hearted bites, Amy's triangle of food remained untouched. The way her stomach was churning she was pretty sure that whatever she tried to swallow was going to come back up.

The symphony of smacks and gulps generate by Garrett's avid chewing was the only noise breaking the deafening silence. Amy wasn't sure how much more of this she could take. Relief washed over her as a ringtone reverberated through the quiet room. Her eyes zeroed in on the source of the noise. She instantly regretted it when her actions caused her stare to meet Sam's. Instinctively, she redirected her attention to the hand which was fishing out the cell phone from the back pocket of his jeans. She mentally scolded herself as she inevitably caught a glimpse of the name flashing on the small screen - Dean.

With her heart hammering away a furious rhythm, she frantically averted her eyes and they once again landed on Sam's face. Like a deer caught in the headlights, there was no denying she'd seen the origin of the incoming call.

At the pitiable puppy dog expression he gave her, the intense urge to smack him over the head gripped her. Her palm pressed against her gut, desperately trying to get her frenzied stomach to quiet down.

"I-I'll just take this..." Sam stuttered ineptly, getting up and walking out of the kitchen and into the living room area.

Flipping the lid up, he brought the cell phone to his ear.

"Hey."

"_Where the hell are you?"_ Dean barked, not even bothering to return the greeting.

"I'm in..." Sam hesitated. He couldn't say Griffin, Indiana. And he definitely couldn't say he was at Amy's. Pondering for a while, he opted for the not so subtle solution of: "I'm at Garrett's... friend's... um... place." He uttered awkwardly.

Thankfully, Dean didn't seem to notice the tongue-tied reply.

"_When are you comin' back?"_

"I dunno. Tomorrow, maybe." Sam nervously glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Amy and Garrett going up the staircase which lead to the second floor.

"_Why tomorrow?" _Dean continued to snarl.

"Cause it's nine pm and I'm not gonna drive twenty hours straight without getting some shut eye." Sam retorted, ticked off by Dean's bossy tone.

"_Like we haven't done that before.__" _Dean puffed arrogantly.

"Yeah, we have and it was a dumb thing to do. Why the sudden rush?"

Silence stretched from the other side of the line and Sam's heart skipped a couple of beats.

"Did somethin' happen? Everythin' ok?"

"_Nah. Everything's fine."_

_Fine_ was the keyword which set off the alarm bells in Sam's head.

From the moment he'd picked up the phone, he'd known something was off, but he figured Dean was just in one of his prissy moods. Replaying the short conversation in his mind, Sam now detected a different quality in Dean's tone, something beyond the obvious crankiness, something else Sam couldn't quite put his finger on, but...

"Was there another attack?" Sam tried to keep the anxiety from filtering into his words. "Dean, what's up?"

"_I told you Sammy! It's fine." _Dean practically roared.

Sam paused, trying to figure out the best course of action in this situation. He knew his brother like the back of his own hand. It was hard enough to get him to open up when confronted face to face. Achieving that goal over the phone...? Puff, Sam could forget about _that_ ever happening.

"_Are you gonna stay at the chick's place?"_

Hearing Dean refer to Amy as a chick, even unknowingly, momentarily threw Sam off. It was just... weird. They were talking about the woman his brother had been pining over for more than a year, not some random floozy he'd picked up at a bar. This was Amy!

God, he was so dead! Dean was _so_ going to kick his ass when he found out he'd been keeping this from him.

"Yeah, probably." Sam eventually replied.

"_Oh... is she hot?"_

The sudden topic change caught Sam off guard.

"What?"

"_Is she hot?"_

How the hell was he supposed to answer that? Checking the hallway, Sam could see Amy had returned and was now picking up the dishes from the kitchen table.

"_S__aaammy..."_ Dean singsonged.

The unexpected light-hearted and almost mischievous tone prompted Sam to wonder whether his older sibling was having a hormonal meltdown to justify the abrupt mood swing.

"Huh?" Sam snapped out of his reverie, turning his back to the kitchen.

"_Simple question - Is. She. Hot?"_

"I-I don't- I guess..." He put an end to his own ridiculous stammering with an uncomfortable: "I don't know."

He wasn't lying. He just didn't know. Sure, Amy was an attractive woman, but he hadn't ever really thought of categorizing her according to hotness. She was Amy. Dean's Amy!

"_Oh-oh, dog face girl, huh?"_

"What are you talkin' about, man?" Sam hissed into the phone.

"_You say you don't know, I hear fugly." _Dean concluded.

What kind of absurd reasoning was that?

"Dude, seriously, are you on somethin'?"

Dean ignored the question and simplified:

"_Let's put it this way, would you jump her?"_

"Jump-What?! No! God, no!"

The suggestion in itself made Sam jolt up and though he knew that Amy couldn't possibly have heard it, he still threw a jittery glance in the direction of the kitchen. Sure enough, she was still there, busily washing the dishes. His gaze lingered on her; unwelcomed thoughts and pictures snuck up on him, flashing in his mind's eye and sending a startling rush of lust through his body.

His eyes bugged out and a pang of guilt and shame urged him to quickly mumble:

"No, no, no." But there was still a nagging, smidgen of curious doubt and he hastily crushed it with another: "Noooo. No way."

Now all he was left with was remorse. He kicked himself for feeling it. It wasn't his fault. Yeah, though he'd never actually allowed himself to think of her that way, Amy was still drop dead gorgeous. And he was a guy. And-and... If anyone was to blame it was _Dean_. He'd been responsible for putting that thought into his head in the first place.

"_So that's a__ no on jumping her, huh?" _Sam could almost hear the glowing smirk in Dean's mocking.

"Yeah. It's a no."

Sam turned away, unable to look at Amy anymore.

"_Why not?"_

'_Cause you'd kick the crap out of me.' _Was what Sam actually wanted to say. Instead, he went with a meek:

"Just 'cause..."

"_Would _I_ jump her?"_

Sam choked.

"_You ok, Sammy?"_

Awkwardly, Sam cleared his throat and croaked out:

"Yeah."

"_So?"_

"Oh, you'd _definitely_ jump _her_..." Sam smiled into the phone.

The certainty in his brother's voice prompted Dean to question:

"_How come you think I'__d jump her but you wouldn't?"_

Sam had had enough.

"What is it with you and jumping this girl?" He snapped.

"_I dunno. It just popped into my head. Besides, I kinda got the vibe that Golden boy has a thing for her. It'd__ be fun to mess with his head."_ Dean chuckled.

"Really? Garrett and A-" Sam stopped himself just in the nick of time. "-the chick?"

"_I don't know about her, but Sundance Kid? Major crush! The guy practically had a coronary when he realised she'd dumped his ass."_

"You've been putting a lot of thought into this, haven't you?" Sam wondered out loud.

"_I got bored."_ Dean lied.

Truth was he was willing to do _anything_ to keep himself busy. Hell, he was even chitchatting on the phone, for Christ's sake! And he _hated_ being on the phone.

"_So... What you have for dinner?"_

Huh? What was going on with Dean? Since when did he spend so much time on the phone? With him, it was usually _Hi_, insert whatever important information he had to say and _bam_, he was done. Now all of a sudden Dean was interested in knowing what he'd had for dinner? Didn't he have better things to do?

Sam whirled around at a creaking noise coming from behind him. Amy was standing in the hallway, between the kitchen and the living room.

"Look, man, I gotta go, ok?"

"_Oh, come on, dude! Just..."_

"Bye. See ya, tomorrow." Sam hastily cut him off and before Dean had a chance to utter a second protest, he ended the call.

Sliding the phone back into his jeans he faced Amy. His chest rose with the deep intake of breath. So did Amy's.

"Garrett's already upstairs. There's a guest room on the second floor, first door on the right. Sheets are clean and you can find fresh towels in the bathroom - at the end of the hall." She shoved her hands into the front pockets of her jeans, protectively bringing her shoulders together.

"Thanks." Sam looked just as uncomfortable as she was.

Before the dreadful silence could settle between them, Amy quickly mumbled:

"Well, I'm just gonna go-"

"Amy, wait." Sam called out and she halted mid-turn.

Sam couldn't believe he was doing this, but he couldn't let her go without knowing if she was ok.

Gulping dryly, Amy put on a brave face and looked up at him. He crossed the room to come stand a couple of feet away from her, making her arch her neck in order to meet his gaze.

"Yeah?"

"I know you saw it." His voice was low and he had that damn apologetic expression plastered on his mug again.

Amy hated it. She absolutely hated playing the part of orphan Annie, who everyone felt sorry for.

So Dean had been back for a whole year but no one had bothered to let her in on it. Big deal! And now that she knew the truth what was she supposed to do? Freak out? Pull her hair out? Ball up in the corner and cry her eyes out? No. Way. In. Hell! Never!

"Saw what?" She feigned ignorance.

"The name on the phone."

'_Let the show begin!'_ Amy announced in her mind.

Ten hours of driving had given her ample time to plan out and rehearse every possible scenario, every minute detail of this conversation, of her reaction; granted that the person featured on the other end of it was Dean and not Sam. But she'd make the necessary adjustments to make it work. She was ready!

'_Let's go!'_

"You mean Dean?"

Saying his name out loud without faltering, and actually adding a convincing tone of nonchalance, was one of the single, most difficult things she'd ever had to do. But she did it and she was damn proud of herself for it.

Sam seemed stunned by her calm exterior. He scrutinized her face for signs of emotional turmoil but found nothing. No pain, no anguish, no trace of rage... nothing. She was simply looking up at him, serene and peaceful, as if they were talking about tomorrow's grocery list.

"You know about..."

"That he's out of the pit?"

God, this was getting harder by the second. Still, she hung on.

Sam nodded.

"Yeah."

It was perfect! Perfect. It wasn't too indifferent to the point that it would arouse suspicion and it wasn't weak either. It was just a fact - yes, she knew Dean was back and she actually looked happy about it.

Not hysterical, not giddy, not angry, just pleased by the turn of events.

Sam was gobsmacked by her reaction. He hadn't known what to expect, but it certainly wasn't this-this... What was this?! What was wrong with her?

"Did Garrett tell you?" He probed with a frown.

This was the point where her pride took over and the lie came out as smooth as velvet:

"I've known for a while now."

Twenty one hours could be considered a while, right?

"Oh..." Sam was confused.

He'd been ready to have his head bitten off for not telling her. He'd been prepared for tears, punches, hair yanking and even biting. He wasn't prepared for calm and collected.

Who the hell was this woman and what had she done with Amy?

"So... you're ok?"

Amy knew that, for a lie to work, you always needed to add a pinch of truth.

"I was a little ticked off you guys didn't tell me." She gave him a shrug, not an obvious one, just the slightest twitch of her shoulders. "But I kinda figured you had your hands full with the whole Apocalypse thing."

God, she even added a soft smile. She was smiling! Ok, this reaction was way too healthy for Sam!

"Oh... That's-That's... good?"

Her lips curled sideways for a lopsided grin.

"That a question, Sammy?"

"No, it's... Um... It's good. It's good to see you're ok."

"What about you? How are you?"

"Well... Not really jumping for joy here? With Lucifer out of the pit and all. And now hunters are dying..." Sam was still scanning her face, but his search was fruitless.

"Yeah. Garrett told me."

There was a moment of silence before Amy broke.

"So, you gonna tell me what happened?"

"Sure."

"Ok, then. Go finish your pizza. I just gotta go to the bathroom. I'll be right back."

Sam nodded and watched her disappear into the living room.

The moment she shut the door behind her, the walls she'd so intricately built up around herself came crumbling down. She slid against the wood, helplessly panting for air all the way down to the tiled floor. Panting quickly escalated into incontrollable heaving and within seconds she was double over her toilet, mouth gapping and hacking, knuckles as pale as the porcelain her hands gripped.

Five minutes later she was walking out of the bathroom, mask on and ready to hear whatever Sam had to tell her.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Author's note:

Hey guys, first off thanks for all the kind reviews and second, this is a short chapter with not much in it, but it's a necessary one. Don't worry, though, I've already got the next one written, just waiting for my wonderful beta (Ath3nasGard3n) to give it a thumbs up and I'll post it. ;)

"Now we're just trying to figure out what's going on." Sam finished and hesitantly looked up to read the expression on Amy's face.

He'd been talking for hours, expecting to get interrupted at any moment. She never did. With the exceptions of an occasional _yeah,_ a few _uh-uh_'s and more than a fair share of gasps, the only time Amy had uttered anything had been either to offer him a drink or a snack. Currently, they were working on finishing up a box of Cap'n Crunch. By the time he'd begun revealing the extent of his interactions with Ruby, he'd braced himself and waited for some serious scolding. Amy, however, had remained at a safe distance on her side of the couch, simply watching him in silence.

She sure had changed a lot. The Amy he knew would have bitten his head off for his stupidity. Instead, she was just staring at him, seemingly digesting all the information he'd provided her with.

"Ok..." She started off in a low voice.

She sat up straight from her lounging position and leaned forward to set the cereal box on the coffee table.

"My turn."

Sam frowned. Her turn? He didn't like the sound of that.

"I'm just gonna come out and say it and I really hope you don't get mad but..." She paused.

Amy took a deep breath and all of a sudden she was glaring at him. Sam cautiously slanted back. He'd seen that glower more than a few times, except he'd never actually been on the receiving end of it. That role was usually reserved for his brother, Dean.

"What the _hell's_ wrong with you?!"

Sam jerked a bit at her sudden outburst. Yep, Old Amy was back! But before he could get a word in, she continued:

"Demon blood, really, Sammy? Demon blood?! It's blood! And it's from a demon! How hard can it be to figure out that, _maybe_, just maybe, that might not be such a smart move?"

"But-"

"What a dumb, stupid, moronic thing to do!"

Ouch! That hurt!

She remained unimpressed by the guilty expression on Sam's face.

"When, in the history of mankind, has anything good come out of blood suckage? When? Never! You know why? Cause it's a dumb thing to do."

She'd said dumb already. No need to rub it in.

"It's bad enough you decided to do the horizontal rumba with this demon..."

Sam winced.

"...but blood sucking? What was going through your brain? Hell, where _was_ your brain?"

"Amy..."

She widened her eyes at his interruption and with a scolding finger warned him:

"Nuh-uh, I'm not done yet."

Of course she wasn't. When Amy went into full ranting mode, there was no stopping her.

"And the whole Angel thing... I swear, you hunters should really start working on your research skills. First, Garrett doesn't know the number of the beast and now you and your brother thought Angels were going to help you stop the Apocalypse. They were gonna try to stop the one event that would eventually lead to Judgment Day? The Day of the Lord? Perfect justice followed by perfect bliss? Really? It's in the Bible! The _Bible_! Not some obscure parchment in some God forsaken library in the middle of nowhere. It's the freaking Bible! You've got one in _every_ _single_ motel in America. I mean, all you had to do was roll over and look at the book on your bedside table."

That was ironic. The answer to all their doubts about the Angel's involvement in this whole debacle was right there. Every time they checked into a motel room. He'd never thought of that.

"Bet you never thought of that, huh?"

She was doing it again. On occasion, Amy appeared to have an uncanny ability to read minds.

When she was done, a heavy stillness flooded the room.

Sam was hunched over and she felt a twinge of regret for her callous words. But someone had to say it. You couldn't just run your hand through his shaggy hair and say everything was going to be ok. What he'd done had been monumentally stupid and he had to realise that.

After a couple of minutes of silence, though, her resolve crumbled and against her better judgement her hand came to rub the space between his shoulder blades. She felt him relax into her soothing touch.

"I'm sorry..." His apology was barely audible, broody and weighed down by shame.

"Yeah, well... spilled milk... All you can do now is try to fix it." She beamed a soft, half-smile at him when he finally got up the nerve to meet her gaze. "I can't believe I'm saying this but... You should really start listening to your brother more often."

She felt a pang in her chest at the mention of Dean and hastily tried to lighten the mood with a quip:

"By the way, what have you been eating?"

"Huh?" Sam furrowed his brow.

She pointedly ran her hand over his ample back.

"You're huge! You were big before, but now you're just... massive!"

His cheeks flashed red and his eyes dropped to the floor. Amy chuckled at his embarrassment.

"You guys are up, already?"

The two turned to see a sleepy-faced Garrett standing at the entrance to the living room.

Up? What was he-?

Both checked their watches and, sure enough, it was six in the morning. For the first time, the shy strings of light, filtering into the room from the partially opened blinds, dawn on them. The two exchanged a look at the realisation that they had talked the whole night through.

Garrett rubbed his left eye before his hand delved into his dishevelled hair, pushing it away from his face.

"I can't believe we stayed up all night. You must be exhausted." Amy exclaimed noticing the dark bags under Sam's slitted eyes.

"Yeah, I'm kinda beat. But we really should get going. I told Dean I'd be back today."

Another pang in Amy's chest and she promptly ignored it.

"You can't drive all the way back to Nevada. You should get some rest." she suggested eyeing the older hunter.

"I can drive." Garrett piped up and immediately frowned at the twin hesitant looks thrown his way. "What?"

----------------

Standing on her driveway, Sam eyed Garrett's outstretched hand suspiciously.

"I'm not sure about this." Sam repeated for the umpteenth time before reluctantly surrendering the car keys.

"He's gonna kill you if he finds out you let him drive his baby." Amy agreed and for a second Sam pondered driving himself. "Don't even think about it, you're too tired. Just get some rest in the car and you two can switch when you're closer to the roadhouse."

Sam smiled. Despite the limited time they'd actually spent together, Amy really had him pegged, didn't she?

She gave him a smile of her own and, rising on the tip of her toes, locked her hands around his neck, bringing him in for a hug.

"Be safe." She whispered into his shoulder.

"You too." She heard him reply.

When they pulled apart Garrett was expectantly staring at Amy.

"You've got your meds, right? Don't go overboard on the painkillers." She warned him and Sam could have sworn the kid's breath hitched the moment she wrapped her arms around him.

Garrett's lids fluttered closed and his nostrils flared as he inhaled her scent.

The seconds languorously slouched by and, despite the fact that Amy had long loosened her hold on him, Garrett's arms remained firmly folded around her tiny shape.

"Um... Garrett?" She piped up.

"Yeah..." He mumbled; his eyes still shut as he savoured the close contact.

Was he sniffing her? Dean was right…

'_Major crush...__ Awkward...'_

Sam clumsily stuffed his hands into his pockets, his gaze ineptly wandering back and forth between a dazed Garrett and a frowning Amy.

The way he was holding onto her, forced her into an uncomfortable position - back and neck arched to meet his height, feet scratching the dusty ground as she struggled to find her footing.

"Maybe... you should..." She croaked out as breathing became an issue.

She flattened her palms against his shoulders, and after a few awkward nudges he seemed to finally break out of his reverie.

His grip slacked and she staggered out of the embrace, hastily puffing her hair as she gulped a couple of extra intakes of air.

"Ok, we're good... See you. Drive safe." She blurted, jittery eyes bouncing from Garrett to Sam and back again.

This was the moment where they were supposed to get in the car and drive away, right? Sam was actually making the effort, taking a tentative step in the direction of the Impala. Garrett, however, wasn't budging.

"Bye..." She tried.

Mercifully, Sam's friendly slap on Garrett's back put an end to the impasse.

"Let's go."

The two shuffled into the car and seconds later the engine revved loudly. From her driveway, Amy followed the Impala until it disappeared over the distant hill.

Sighing, she ambled back into the mansion, locking the door behind her. She didn't bother stifling the yawn, letting her mouth widen for an instant.

Thank God it was Sunday and she wasn't actually on call. She had so much stuff to do if she was going to open up the clinic again. In her head, she planned out her day.

First, get some shut eye, then get up and start working on her resignation letter for the hospital. She also had to make a list of things she needed to buy. Though her basement was still stacked with medical equipments, she'd used up most of her supply stock.

This was going to be a lot of work.

---------------------------------------

By the time they got to the roadhouse, the sun had already set. Sam was actually relieved the trip was over. He didn't know how much longer he could dodge Garrett's not so subtle questions about the relationship between him and Amy.

It was clear the boy felt threatened by their proximity and the obvious signs of affection Amy displayed towards Sam.

To the youngest of the Winchesters, this was ridiculous. If he felt threatened now, he wondered how Garrett would react if he ever saw Amy and Dean in a room together. But that scenario would never play out... With Amy safely distanced from the hunting world and Dean intent on keeping it that way, those two would probably never see each other again.

Sam told himself it was for the best, though deep inside, there was a nagging doubt that made him question whether that was really true.

Amy appeared to be dealing quite well with the separation, but Dean...? Sam wasn't so sure about him. There had been a time a couple of months back when he'd been almost convinced that Dean had put the past behind him, still... there were moments, fleeting moments, in which he'd catch a distant, melancholic look on his brother's face, and Sam knew it wasn't over yet.

With this thought plaguing his mind, Sam entered the roadhouse, closely followed by Garrett.

Ellen was on the phone, behind the counter, Dean and Bobby sat at the usual table, in the far left corner of the bar.

"Hey Ellen."

She nodded, focused on her conversation.

"Young lady, you just make sure you stick close to Gunther, you hear?"

He heard Ellen scold over the phone as he walked over to Bobby and Dean.

"Hey." Sam greeted pulling out a chair.

Garrett mimicked him, oblivious to Dean's glare.

"Who's Ellen talking to?" Sam questioned.

"She's giving Jo an earful for joining up with the guys in Sacramento." Bobby explained.

"At least she's gonna be safe. Better than having her work alone." Sam reasoned.

"Who's Jo?" Garrett asked.

"Ellen's daughter." Bobby provided as he stood up. "You boys want a drink?"

"Beer, please." Sam requested.

"Me too." Garrett tried his luck, but Bobby quickly put a damper on his expectations.

"You're getting a soda." He informed and headed for the bar.

"What the hell took you so long?" Those were the first words Dean directed at the newly arrived duo.

Sam sighed. Apparently, Dean was still in grouchy mode. Great!

"We stopped for lunch." Sam informed. "Any news?"

"Nope." Dean popped the 'p' and took a swig of his bottle.

Sam felt a cold tap on his shoulders and turned to accept the beer Bobby handed him. Grumpily, Garrett took his alcohol-free beverage. He couldn't wait to turn 21. Thankfully, it was just a few days away.

"What about me?" Dean grumbled, cocking an eyebrow at Bobby.

"You've already had five beers. I think you're done for the night." The bearded man replied sitting back down.

With an incoherent grunt, Dean pushed himself off his chair and trudged up the staircase.

"What's up with Mr. Sunshine?" Garrett wondered eyeing Dean's retreating form.

"He just get's that way sometimes; probably worried that we still haven't had any progress." Sam speculated.

"Yeah, well he's been like this for two days now." Bobby grouched. "That boy's starting to get on my nerves."

After a couple of minutes, Sam scanned the room. Failing to find the only other female of the group he asked:

"Where's Reggie?"

"Oh, you know her... She just up and disappears from time to time. Last time I saw her was last night." Bobby explained.

"Who's Reggie?"

Garrett frowned when, upon his query, Bobby and Sam's eyes met for an instant.

That was right. He hadn't met Reggie yet. Oh, boy, that would be fun! Reggie would make mincemeat out of the smart mouthed kid.

But alas, it turned out that Sammy's fun would have to wait, because as the days passed by there was no sign of the blonde hunter.

After a week, Sam began to worry.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Freshly rolled out of bed, the tall Winchester lurched his way down the stairs into the bar. Dragging his feet to the counter, he sat on one of the stools and waited for Bobby to finish talking on the phone.

"Ok, then. Thanks for letting me know. Be safe."

"Morning." Sam greeted.

"Mornin'." Bobby replied unenthusiastically.

He stared blindly at the cell phone for an extra couple of seconds, before putting it away in the inside pocket of his vest.

"Somethin' wrong?" Sam wondered at the visible tension emanating from the older man.

"That was Gail Harrison, up in Montana... She's got three new hunters wanting to join." Bobby explained.

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Sam cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I don't know. First few days nobody wanted to come anywhere near this thing. Now, suddenly, we've got hunters lining up to get signed on?" Bobby paused, running a callous hand over his beard. "No offense, but you and your brother ain't exactly the best calling card for this little campaign."

Sam slouched a bit at the comment.

"Just thought it would be harder to get people to join up, that's all."

"Maybe they got scared with all the murders going on?" Sam offered.

"Nah. We haven't heard about any attacks in the last couple of weeks, and during that time alone, we got 46 new guys." Bobby argued.

He was right. Since Sam and Garrett had returned to the Roadhouse, the group had grown exponentially, to the point that it now included over sixty hunters scattered all over the country, and apparently the number was still growing.

Everything was set up, everyone was ready and waiting. But with the exception of the occasional salt and burn cases or run of the mill jobs like vampires or werewolves, there was nothing going on. Still no sign of Lucifer, no omens or major disturbances, and now, even hunters appeared to be safe.

There was plenty of reason to be alarmed. Sam didn't like this standoff, he was tired of waiting. It was no wonder that every time a case would pop up he'd jump at the chance to take it, along with Dean and Garrett.

"Oh, and by the way. Reggie's in Cedar Rapids." Bobby added. "So you can quit worryin' about her."

Sam's back automatically straightened, much like it always did at the mention of the female hunter. He didn't know why it would happen; he simply knew he couldn't help it. The woman just had that effect on him.

"I-I just don't think it's smart for her to go off on her own with everything that's goin' on."

Bobby didn't look convinced and Sam hastily changed the subject.

"Where's Dean?"

"Where d'ya think?" The cap wearing man grumbled.

"Again?!" Sam exclaimed, getting up and walking out the front door.

He found his brother flat on his back, with his upper body concealed by the Impala.

"Dean?" Sam called with a sigh. "What're you doin'?"

"What does it look like, Einstein?" Dean's grouchy voice carried from under the chassis of the car.

"How long are you gonna keep workin' on her? You've been buried under that thing for two weeks. You could have built a whole car from scratch by now."

When there was no reply, Sam tried again, this time playfully kicking Dean in the shin.

"Dean?"

"What?!" He roared, scowling up at Sam as he reluctantly rolled out from under the Chevy.

Dusting off his hands on his worn out jeans, he rose to his feet.

"What's up with you, man?"

"Nothing."

Sam's shoulders slumped as Dean once more redirected his attention to the Impala, ducking his head under the open hood of the car. Realising that confronting the issue openly wasn't going to work, Sam attempted to lighten the mood.

"You tryin' to dodge helping out Ellen in the bar?"

"I don't need to dodge anythin'. I'm a hunter, I'm not gonna buss tables. She's got Sundance to help her out with that." Dean muttered under his breath, wiping down the already sparkling engine.

"Come on, we all gotta pull our weight around here."

"I do stuff." Dean retorted, finally looking up to meet his brother's sceptical expression.

"Like what?"

"I go on supply rounds."

"Yeah, and by the time you get here you've already downed half of the beer."

"A man needs his fuel." He countered and Sam smirked, relieved to see the crease between Dean's brows partially fade.

The two brothers entered the bar to the clunking of heavy boots trudging down the stairs.

"Mornin' everyone." Garrett's overly cheerful greeting was met with confused frowns from everyone.

"Someone remembered to take their happy pill today."

The Texan ignored Dean's mocking and practically skipped his way to the counter. Taking a seat he ordered:

"Beer, please."

A simultaneous head shake from Bobby and Sam was followed by Ellen's motherly chastising:

"Kid, how many times are we gonna go through this? Not until you're-" She halted when Garrett promptly slapped a card onto the surface of the bar counter.

Doubtful, but curious, Ellen walked over and collected the ID. Before she could utter a word Garrett beamed:

"It's my birthday. 21. Official. Now, about that beer..."

"Let me see that. It's gotta be a fake." Dean snatched the card from Ellen and was surprised to see that either that was one great work of counterfeiting, or the boy was in fact 21.

Ellen remained impervious to Garrett's toothy grin.

"I don't care what it says on that thing. I ain't giving you beer at nine in the mornin'."

"Fine, then I'll just have to take my business elsewhere." Garrett announced matter-of-factly, ineptly hiding his disappointment.

"Sit down, young man!"

Garrett, along with everyone else in the room, froze at Ellen's threatening command.

"I'm not gonna have you drinking and driving."

To his surprise, the woman fished out a bottle from the freezer and, popping the cap, handed it to him.

"You get _one._ And after lunch... we'll see."

Submissively, Garrett picked up the beer and took a hefty swig. He smacked his lips contently and Sam snickered. The smile vanished from his face however the moment Dean spoke:

"I'll have one too."

"Dean..." Sam trailed off under Dean's intense glower.

Ellen seemed to ponder whether or not to take the order. She didn't have much of an argument to deny him his drink since she'd just supplied Garrett with his own, so she begrudgingly popped open another beer and set it in front of the hunter.

The neck of the bottle was about an inch from his mouth when the first cords of a superphonic ringtone echoed throughout the room.

"_Tread on my face if you like little lady  
Turn me inside out if you have to-"_

Garrett picked up the call, cutting off Elton John's upbeat hollering.

"Hey… yep… twenty one..." The dirty blonde's yapping drifted into the background as Sam's focus zeroed in on his brother.

The cords and lyrics were unfamiliar to him but, apparently, not to Dean. His distant gaze was fixed on the flat, wooden surface of the counter and the deep wrinkle was back on the bridge of his nose. He swallowed hard and, without a word, the eldest of the Winchesters stood up, bottle in hand, and marched out of the bar.

Sam quizzically looked between Ellen and Bobby, hoping that either could provide an explanation for what had just happened, but neither seemed to have one.

------------------------------------

The mystery lugged on for the rest of the day. Sam had to hand it to the kid - he sure was popular. It seemed that half the country was calling to congratulate him on his birthday. He'd lost count of how many incoming calls Garrett had received so far, but the fact remained that every time the song was heard, it elicited the same puzzling response from Dean. Sam was one step away from _googling_ the damn lyrics when right about the twentieth time Elton John bellowed out the words '_Tread on my face...'_ Dean snapped.

He waited until Garrett was done chitchatting and the second he turned off his cell, Dean growled out:

"What kind of half-ass excuse for a ringtone is that?"

Garrett matched his fierce stare, while Sam hesitantly looked back and forth between the two men, ready to step in at a moment's notice.

"What's wrong with it?"

"Elton John?! Really?" Dean scoffed and, raising a mischievous eyebrow at him, added: "Somethin' you're not tellin' us, kid?"

Garrett's upper lip twitched at Dean's insinuation, but despite the hand full of beers and the couple of whiskey shots in him, he managed to keep his composure and scornfully retort:

"Yeah, cause yours is such a manly ringtone."

Sam cringed and mentally warned Garrett:

'_Don't go there, kid. __Please, don't go there.' _

"Zeppelin rules." Was Dean's not so witty comeback.

"Whole lotta love... Kashmir, sure..." Garrett agreed and Sam visibly started relaxing.

He instantly stiffened back to attention though when Garrett added with a _puff_:

"...but Ramble on?"

'_Oh, crap.'_

Dean glared daggers at him. Defiantly, Garrett sung out the song's first stanza in a teasingly effeminized tone. He got as far as '_Leaves are falling',_ before Dean lunged across the counter and the only thing that stopped his fist from connecting with the young man's chin was Sam's death grip on his arm.

"What the hell, dude? You're gonna punch a guy over a damn ringtone?" Sam yelled out, knowing full well this had very little to do with a stupid tune.

This was simply the culmination of whatever had been eating away at Dean for the last two weeks. There were three ways his brother dealt with emotional turmoil; option A - getting plastered, which he was currently working on; option B - getting laid, but Reggie wasn't around for him to scratch that itch; or option C - beating the crap out of some poor schmuck which, apparently, was the only outlet he was left with.

"He's askin' for it!" Dean shouted back defensively.

He tried pouncing on Garrett once again, but Sam jerked him back.

"Just calm down, man!"

Sam held his breath and waited while Dean contemplated his next step. Eventually, he seemed to relent; his taut muscles relaxed, causing his squared shoulders to drop and Sam's hold on him followed suit.

Big mistake.

The instant Dean felt the fingers around his arm loosen, he whirled around and a loud crack reverberated through the bar, closely coupled with a gasped grunt. Sam flinched at the sight of Garrett staggering back and plummeting to the floor. But Dean wasn't done yet and before his brother could stop him, he was on Garrett.

Bobby rushed over to help Sam break up the brawling duo. They fell to the floor, striking left and right, kneeing and punching at each other, while Bobby and Sam awkwardly tried to dodge the misguided blows. With flying fists and angry headbutts in the mix, the task was impossible.

"Break it up, you two!" Bobby roared out, realising that pulling them apart wasn't a feasible alternative; not if he wanted to keep all his teeth and bones intact.

Years of bar fights gave Dean an edge over his younger opponent, but the blind rage and frustration that drove him interfered with his accuracy, causing him to miss his target more than once.

In the midst of all the chaos, his ears tuned the thunderous noise to pick up on the electronic sound that was once again coming from Garret's cell phone, and had set him off in the first place. A new wave of ill directed wrath hit him.

Wooden tables, chairs and everything that got in the way of the fight collapsed, and pretty soon the bar was looking like a warzone. Ellen had had enough. Picking up the Remington from behind the counter, she rang out a single shot. Everyone froze at the deafening and threateningly familiar sound. Standing tall with the rifle propped up against her hip, the roadhouse owner met all four pair of stunned eyes with trademark composure.

"That's enough." She gritted out. "Dean, get off him."

Ellen poignantly widened her eyes when he refused to follow her order and he quickly back paddled and eventually stumbled onto his feet.

Garrett and Dean's combined pants and hisses as they straightened up were the only noises interrupting the ominous silence. Well, that and the _God_ _damn_ tune.

'_So if you don't want me around  
I think I'll run along and drown  
You can't want this bum in to-oown... Amyyy!'_

Sam jolted and his gaping stare bounced frantically between the cheerful cell phone buzzing away on the floor and Dean's face.

'_Holy...'_

Amy? All of this was because of...? When? Why? But he was over her... right...? Oh, god! Did he know that Amy was Garrett's-Where was he going now?

Hastily, Sam dashed to catch up with his brother as he stormed out the front door for the second time that day.

"Dean!" He called, but the stubborn hunter wouldn't yield. "Dean!" Sam yelled out again, following Dean's ground eating footsteps.

"It's her, isn't it? The crappy mood, the getting hammered, the fighting... It's because of Am-"

Dean came to a screeching halt and spun around to face Sam, cutting him off before he had a chance to say her name:

"Don't!"

Sam gawked at him, dumbfounded. Dean dropped his gaze, unable to meet Sam's enquiring eyes, and stuttered:

"Jus-just let it go, ok?"

"What's goin' on, Dean? Why you suddenly-"

"God damn it, Sammy! Just drop it!" Dean barely got the nerve to look up.

He knew that if he did, he would find himself the target of Sam's pitiful, puppy-dog expression. The one he hated so much. Dean's lids rose and sure enough, there it was.

"No. I'm not gonna just drop it!" Reigning in the aggravation brought on by Dean's pig-headedness. He paused and sighed sympathetically: "You're my brother..."

It only made things worse. Dean absolutely loathed when someone felt sorry for him. It made him feel weak and pathetic.

"You're my brother, Dean." He repeated after a moment. "And I-I just wanna know why you're-"

"I'm ok!" Dean barked.

"You're _not_ ok!" Sam snapped back. "That much is obvious! I just don't get why all of a sudden you're..."

"I saw her!" Dean blurted out unintentionally.

All he wanted was for Sam to stop asking questions.

"I saw her." He reiterated, turning away; hands buried deep in his pockets.

"When?" Sam breathed out, confused.

"Three weeks ago." Dean confessed, kicking a random rock off the dusty ground, just so he could have something to focus on. With the back of a shaky hand, he wiped his forehead, feeling the sticky combination of sweat and blood on his skin. "When I heard about those dead hunters... man..." He pursed his lips, and struggled with the sudden knot in his throat: "The thought of her..." He shut his lids tightly against the terrorizing scenario flashing in his mind's eye. With a soothing intake of air, he looked up at his brother; a deep, painful crease marred the bridge of his nose. "I just... I just had to make sure she was ok."

Before Sam could get a word in, Dean hurriedly anticipated his reply with a pathetic attempt at nonchalance:

"I know! I know it was a dumb ass move. She closed down that clinic ages ago. Why would anyone target her?" He forced out a chuckle and muttered: "Stupid, dumb ass move..."

"Dean, it's understandable. It's normal to-"

He jerked up.

"Normal?! It damn well better not be _normal_! 'Cause if this-this..." At a loss for words in his anguish, Dean shouted angrily: "...whatever the _hell_ this _thing_ inside me is..." His nostrils flared, his jaw clenched bitterly. "If that's normal... Believe me, Sammy, you don't ever want to be normal! _Ever_!"

Sam took a tentative step forward, his mouth opening to utter something, but blinded by pent-up rage, Dean didn't give him a chance:

"No. No, no. You don't get it, Sam! It-It's..." The anarchy going on in his head and his constricting chest made it hard to word out a coherent thought: "She's everywhere! Everywhere I turn, _something_ reminds me of... Everything! And it just won't go away! It just won't..." He trailed off, mentally and physically exhausted.

"Look, maybe you should rethink this. We don't know what's going to happen. Maybe having her close by..." Sam strategically avoided the word Amy. "...it would be easier to keep her out of harm's-"

Dean was already shaking his head vehemently before the end of Sam's suggestion.

"Dean, just think-"

"She almost died, Sammy!"

Sam reeled back at the intensity of Dean's glower.

"No! No one's going anywhere near her! I want her far away from this whole mess."

"So what? You're just gonna-"

"I can deal with this. I did it before." Dean was clearly in denial.

"Dude, you just said-"

Dean was walking away from him again.

"Where're you goin'?"

"I gotta go."

Sam heard him growl as he slid into the Impala and slammed the door shut.

"Dean!"

But the car was already raging down the gravelly road, leaving Sam behind in a cloud of suffocating dust.

**Author's note:**

If you guys are curious about Garrett's ringtone all you have to do is go to youtube and type in Amy Elton John and you'll find at least two videos with the song.

You should know that, all of Garrett's character was created with this tune in mind. Everything, from the smooth, smart-alecky guitar intro, down to the feel of a southern drawl conveyed by the relaxed and cool beat just fit him to a T and perfectly portrays his teenage infatuation with Amy. And obviously… the lyrics just crack me up. I love it! Abso-freaking-lutely LOVE it!

Anyway, hope you like and let me know what you think. ;)


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter** **13**

Amy's eyes lingered on the material spread out on the metallic stand, making sure she had everything she needed before putting on the sterilized gloves. Once she was satisfied that everything was in place she turned her attention to the man sitting on the operating table. His open shirt hung slackly off his right shoulder, leaving his left arm completely exposed. A jagged and relatively deep slash ran along the outside of his limb. It had stopped bleeding by the time he'd arrived at her house and she'd already done a fairly good job cleaning it up. Now she needed to disinfect it.

"This might sting a bit." She warned, picking out a bit of gauze and soaking it in antiseptic.

His lids fell closed and his jaw clenched as he suppressed a hiss once the cotton came into contact with his wound.

"Sorry." Amy apologized.

"It's ok." He assured her, opening his eyes and meeting her gaze.

She couldn't help staring for a moment, taking in the strange colouring of his iris. At first glance you'd simply label them as blue, but if you paid close attention, you could pick up on shades of green circling the perfect sapphire orbs.

"You can go on." His voice was calm, soothing even.

Realising she was staring at him, Amy awkwardly jerked her gaze back to the task at hand. But it was too late. He'd caught onto her inadvertent ogling. She sensed more than saw the smile nudging the corner of his lips and felt the redness bleeding into her cheeks. Her discomfort was only magnified by the stillness that crept around them and she almost let out a sigh of relief when the phone rang out.

"I better get that." She winced inwardly at the crack in her voice.

Snapping the surgical gloves off, she picked up the small device.

"Excuse me."

He nodded and smiled, and Amy thought it was the most unsettling smile she'd ever seen. She really didn't know how she felt about it, but it certainly had quite an effect on her.

Redirecting her focus to her cell, she frowned failing to recognize the number flashing on the small screen.

"Hello?" She said, putting some distance between herself and the man on the table.

There was no reply and she repeated:

"Hello?"

Maybe the reception was bad. She was in her basement after all. Covering the mouth piece with her hand she signalled that she was going to go upstairs. A chill ran down her spine when the man responded with yet another half-smile.

"Can you hear me now? Helloooo." She raised her tone, jogging up the staircase.

There was still no answer, but in the silent corridor she could hear heavy breathing coming from the other side.

"Hello?" Annoyance filtered into her voice.

She was too old for prank calls.

"Look, if you're just gonna-"

"Hello?"

It was too slurred for her to recognize.

"Who is this?"

There was a deep sigh before:

_"I just thought I'd-"_ Hiccup. "-_call... see... how you-"_ Hiccup. _"-doin'."_

Again it was garbled but it was enough for her to guess:

"Garrett?!"

_"Bingo! You... you... smart you..."_

Huh?

"Are you drunk?"

_"Nope."_

"Garrett?"

_"Okaaay. Maybe..."_ Hiccup. _"... a little."_

Amy rolled her eyes, pacing around in the hall anxious to end the call.

"Garrett, I don't have time for this. There's a hunter downstairs that needs-"

_"Aw! You're help-"_ Burp.

Amy's face contorted in disgust.

_"Sorry."_

It wasn't Garrett's guilty apology that made her stop dead in her tracks. It was the muffled laugh she heard in the background.

A clattering sound followed by an unexpected, booming crash caused Amy to jolt out of her reverie. Instinctively, she pulled the cell away. When she returned it to her still ringing ear, her heart jumped to her throat.

_"Ouch! And Texas is down for the count!"_

That voice, that voice in particular, she had no way of not recognizing.

"Dean?" She gasped.

--------------------------------------------------

Sam's eyebrows knitted together high over the bridge of his nose as he watched Garrett head worryingly wobble from side to side. The poor kid was so wasted he couldn't even hold it up straight. At any second now, Sam was sure the elaborate balancing act Garrett was struggling with was going to come to a painful end. He recoiled and let out a sympathetic ouch when the young man's forehead came crashing down on the counter. He could have sworn he heard bone cracking as his skull connected with the wooden surface.

"Jesus Christ!" Bobby exclaimed, eyeing the groaning boy.

"That's it! I'm cutting you off." Ellen decided, retrieving the empty glass.

"I think it's a little late for that, Ellen." Sam suggested still wincing.

That was gonna hurt in the morning.

After the scuffle with Dean, Garrett had spent the rest of the day putting his newly acquired right to drink to good use. In record time, he'd drunk himself in to a nearly comatose state; a very incoherently chatty coma.

For the last hour he'd been illogically stringing random words together, unable to make a full sentence in his alcohol soaked brain. What he managed to get passed his lips was plain and simple gibberish.

And then, about five minutes ago, he'd suddenly shut up. Sam assumed it was because all of his brain cells were focused on keeping his head from colliding with the counter; a task which he'd failed at.

"Are you ok?" Sam asked, still flinching.

He jumped back when Garrett suddenly snapped back up and announced with a goofy grin.

"I'm gonna-" Hiccup. "call her!"

Was he talking about Amy? That was not a good idea! Dean had specifically stated that she should be kept away from all and anything related to hunting.

"Um... Garrett, maybe you should-"

"No!" He cut off Sam and proudly declared: "I'm callin' her!"

"Calling who?"

Sam spun around to see Dean walking into the bar.

Yep! Definitely _not_ a good idea.

"A-" Garrett started, but Sam was faster.

"Nobody!" He hastily jerked up from his seat and was at Garrett's side so fast it made Dean furrow his brow. Grabbing his arm he suggested: "I think it's time for bed."

"No!" Garrett yanked himself free.

He stumbled onto his feet and laughably staggered away.

Sam's attempt to reach for the young hunter was interrupted by Dean:

"Just let him do it."

Sam looked over his shoulder at his brother. An angry purple bruise on his right cheek and a small cut just above his left eye attested to the brawl which had taken place a few hours before.

"This should be fun." Dean mischievously smirked and, waggling his eyebrows at his younger sibling, sat down on a chair, ready to enjoy the show.

When Sam whirled around, Garrett was already on the phone.

_'Crap.'_

"Hello?"

Garrett barely managed to keep his jell-o knees from buckling and Dean gave him about two minutes before he was flat on the floor. He was so entertained by the spectacle that he failed to notice Sam's fretful state.

_'Please don't say her name. Whatever you do, just don't say her name!' _Sam mentally begged him.

"Bingo! You... you... smart you..."

"Smooth, very smooth..." Dean snickered under his breath.

This was better than late night entertainment.

"Nope." There was a pause before Garrett seemed to admit: "Okaaay. Maybe..."

He let out a hiccup and Dean chuckled out:

"Nice!"

"... a little." Garrett wavered in his footing.

_'Oh, for Christ's sake just pass out already!' _Sam felt like he was gonna have a heart attack if this conversation didn't end soon.

"Aw! You're help-"

The drunken hunter let out an involuntary burp and Dean was done. His hearty laugh reverberated throughout the bar, causing a fuming Garrett to spin around. His goal was to direct an angry scowl at the smartass Winchester, instead, the sudden motion made him lose his balance. Ridiculously, his hands flailed in the air trying to grab onto something. The only thing he achieved with his inept flapping was to get a couple of bar stools to precede him on his way to the floor.

"Ouch! And Texas is down for the count!" Dean yelled out, standing and flamboyantly raising his arms like he was cheering on a touchdown.

Sam's relief lasted less than a second and he nearly choked when his brother snatched the phone off the floor.

"No, Dean!" Sam shouted, pouncing in his direction, but by the time he reached him, he was already chuckling into the cell:

"Sorry, sweetheart. Casanova can't come to the phone right now-"

"Dude! Give me that." Unsuccessfully, Sam wrestled to gain control of the phone, straining over and around Dean.

"-he's too busy passing out." Dean sniggered, panting from the effort to dart Sam's assaults.

Fortunately, the lack of a response from the other side made him lose interest. Plus, watching Garrett clumsily trying to get off his ass was so much more compelling, so he surrendered the electronic gadget.

At Sam's wide eyed gape he shrugged:

"Dog-face chick's shy."

_'Thank God!'_

With his pulse still racing, Sam made sure he'd put enough distance between himself and Dean before he spoke into the mobile.

"Um.... Are you still there?" He hesitantly inquired.

------------------------------------------

Amy had heard the term '_frozen in place'_ before and could actually name a few instances in which she'd experienced something close to what the expression intended to describe. The fact that all said instances involved a certain aggravatingly smart-alecky hunter, was something she chose to ignore.

But the way her body reacted when she heard his voice over the phone? Well, frozen in place never made as much sense as it did in that precise moment. Because for about twenty long, suffocating seconds, every muscle fibre in her simultaneously contracted. Every. Last. One.

As a result, she couldn't move, she couldn't blink and she obviously couldn't utter a word because, albeit having twenty nine years of experience at it, her lungs, apparently, had forgotten how to draw in air.

She stood there, wide eyed and struggling to breathe. Her heartbeat pounded furiously in her ear, which remained glued to the phone; listening to him chuckle and pant.

Sam's shouting was distant and muddled until she heard Dean say:

"Dog-face chick's shy."

That little sentence was enough to snap her out of brain-dead and straight into pissed off mode.

_"Um.... Are you still there?"_ It was Sam now. _"Sorry about that. Garrett is a little waist-"_

"Did your brother just call me dog-face chick?" She demanded not letting him finish.

_"Um... Yeah... well..."_ He stuttered awkwardly. _"He kinda has a few shots in him too."_

"_Chick_? He called me a _chick_?"

It was just like Amy to have a problem with the chick remark and not so much with the part of the sentence which would have offended anyone else, especially a woman.

------------------------------------

Sam didn't know how to respond to Amy's outrage. What was he supposed to say? Sorry, but Dean didn't know it was you? That would trigger a discussion that would take more time than he could actually afford to waste.

Mercifully, Amy had a habit of ranting whenever she was ticked off. It was a trait which Sam sometimes found a bit annoying but, in this case, he thanked his lucky stars for it. While Amy went on and on about his 'jackass' brother, Sam took the opportunity to direct his attention to what had been going on behind him.

With his ass sticking up in the air, propped up by his knees and his face currently plastered against the floor, Garrett was still worming around, trying to get up, while Dean idly stood by.

"Somebody just help the boy get to his room." Ellen grumbled at the pitiful sight.

Instead of aiding the kid, Dean leaned back on the counter snickering, visibly amused by the display of complete lack of motor skills.

Not so subtly, Ellen cleared her throat. When that didn't work she sighed:

"Dean..."

"Yeah..." He replied offhand, completely engrossed in the pathetic show.

"When I said somebody, I meant you."

Dean's incredulous eyes snapped towards Ellen and his smile vanished when he realised she was serious.

"Why me?! You guys let him get hammered! How come I'm the one who gets stuck hauling Sasquatch up the stairs?" He protested.

"'Cause you owe me for the little stunt you pulled this afternoon. That's why! Now get him out of here before he pukes his guts out all over the floor."

Ellen made use of her trademark glare and Dean begrudgingly conceded:

"Fine."

Pushing himself off the counter, he gruffly yanked Garrett up by the collar of his shirt. Taking the kid's arm, he draped it around his neck and with one swift move and a grunted puff hauled him onto his wobbling feet.

"Son of a bitch! He weighs a ton!" Dean huffed.

"Watch your language, boy!" Ellen shouted at his retreating form.

Sam panicked. He couldn't leave Dean and Garrett alone. Although, the blonde kid was three sheets to the wind and pretty close to passed out, he was still mumbling and the few thoughts swirling in his head all seemed to have one thing in common - Amy. If he accidentally blurted out something about her...

"Um... Amy?" With Dean out of sight, he could now use her name.

_"What?!"_

Sam had tuned out Amy's angry prattling, but that one sharp word made it plain that she was still somewhat irritated.

"I'm sorry, but... I-I gotta go." He apologized, nervously.

_"You tell your brother that if he ever calls me chick again I'm gonna..."_

"I will, don't worry. I-"

_"He can call..."_

Oh God! She wasn't done yet.

"Amy..."

But she just went on venting.

----------------------------------

"I gotta... talk to her...." Garrett whined, slacking against Dean, basically letting himself be lugged up the stairs.

"Tomorrow, kid." Dean wheezed grumpily.

He almost gave up when he realised there were still quite a few steps till he reached the second floor.

"Um... You-you don't... get it..." Garrett's head swung limply in synch with the heavy trudges. "She's got this... mouth...."

"A mouth..." Dean mocked, halting abruptly to catch his breath once he got to the top. "Yeah... That's always a good thing for a chick to have."

He now faced the hallway. Somehow, with Big Foot in tow, it looked a lot longer than it did before.

"And eyes... she's got eyes..." Garrett continued burbling.

"Good for her." Dean ridiculed crabbily. "Not as useful as a mouth, but still..."

Inhaling deeply, he reluctantly began plodding down the corridor.

"Oh!" Garrett jolted as if struck by divine inspiration and it was a miracle the two didn't topple to the ground.

"Son of a..." Dean bit out the rest of his curse.

Garrett continued drunkenly unaware:

"And her brain... It's sooo big..."

The mental picture that popped into Dean's mind made him wonder in disgust:

"Big brain?"

"Yeah...She's suuuper smart."

"I bet she is..." Dean indulged him, huffing and puffing.

Almost there, he was almost there, just a few more feet.

"And pretty, man. She's soo..." Garrett slobbered dreamily. "Don't you think she's-" Hiccup. "-pretty?"

"Big headed, with a mouth and eyes; doesn't really paint a Technicolor picture." Dean grunted out, impatiently propping Garrett up against the threshold so he could open the door to the bedroom.

"No, no, no... She's... she's..."

Dean rolled his eyes and picked him up again.

"Come on, loverboy."

Reaching the bed, Dean brusquely let him plop down.

"...special." Garrett eventually puffed, lethargically springing up and down a couple of times on the bouncing mattress.

"Special, huh?" Dean looked at the young man sprawled haphazardly on the bed and, for the first time since he'd met him, felt some kind of empathy towards Garrett.

"Yeah, man... I luv her." He nodded with a goofy grin on his face.

_'Poor sap.'_ Dean thought and crouched down to work on his bootlaces.

Out of the blue, Sam burst into the room. Panting, his large eyes hectically alternated between Garrett and Dean. Noticing the quizzical look his brother was giving him, Sam hurried to dispel the awkwardness his abrupt entrance had caused.

"I-I can do that if you want." He offered, trying hard to hide the fact that he was out of breath.

Dean's puzzled stare lingered as if trying to read Sam's mind.

"Be my guest." He nonchalantly shrugged and, standing up, let Sam take his place.

"So smart..." Garrett was still drooling into the pillow. "Luv her..."

Dean gave the drunken hunter a chastising headshake and turned to leave. The muffled sigh was scarcely audible, but it made him stop dead in his tracks.

"Um... Amy..."

**Author's note:**

And yes! Yet another, horrible, evil gut wrenching cliffhanger. You guys should have pick up on it by now though - I am an absolute fan of cliffhangers (though I don't do them on purpose, promise) but above all UST (unresolved sexual tension). I think it's a huge chunk of the fun of reading a fic. All the bantering, angst and yes, unbearable UST. But don't worry, guys. This UST isn't going to last much longer (not long before the big reunion, cross my heart). ;)

Thanks for hanging in there.

PS. If I ever start taking too long between updates and you guys wanna figure out why, you can always check my Livejournal account -echidnas-pen*livejournal*com -- replace "*" for "."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Sam's head snapped up to see Dean turn. He moved at a torturously slow pace and once their gazes finally met, Sam gulped.

White as a sheet and with frighteningly wide eyes, Dean's question was barely audible:

"What did he say?"

"Um... Dean... I-I..." Sam stammered ineptly, but Dean wasn't listening.

"What did he call her?" It was more forceful; the anxiety building, as he walked back into the room.

With two ground-eating steps Dean was at the bedside.

By now Garrett seemed to have finally passed out. His body sagged droopily; his face, having awkwardly dragged along the pillow, caused the tip of his nose to bend funnily upwards while his mouth hung open.

Unceremoniously grabbing the Texan by the collar, Dean carelessly shook him until he got a drawled moan out of him.

"What did you say?" He questioned, disregarding the greenish hues tinting Garrett's cheeks.

"You're gonna make him-" A chill ran down Sam's spine and he instantly shut up under Dean's murderous glare.

"Wake up, you idiot!" He barked, jerking the young man into half-consciousness.

"Um..." Garrett whined drunkenly. "Wha'..."

"What did you call her?"

"Huh?" Garrett was completely out of it and he could barely keep his eyes open.

At least the nauseating jostling had stopped.

"What's her name?"

Why was he shouting? Oh God his ears were ringing!

"Who?" Garrett's head wobbled dully from side to side.

It took all of Dean's strength not to throttle the kid. Gritting his teeth and breathing harshly through his nostrils, he swallowed back the choking feeling and pushed out:

"Amy what?"

At the mention of her name, a goofy lopsided grin spread over Garrett's mouth and he drawled out musingly:

"Mmmm... Amy..."

The older Winchester nearly snapped. He was gonna make mincemeat out of this kid, he was gonna take his foot and shove it so far up his-

"...Dr. Amy Carrington..."

Dean froze and behind him, Sam's lids dropped closed in defeat.

His cluttered brain grasped at straws, flooded by all the ramifications of that little bit of information. It was her! All this time, it had been her. Dismissively letting go of Garrett, who plopped back on the mattress with a painful grunt, Dean stood up. He ran the back of his shaky hand over his mouth and blinked hard.

His swarming mind didn't even pick up on his brother's weak voice.

"Dean..."

He was too busy trying to choose what to focus on.

The day Garrett had first shown up at the Roadhouse...

'_She was outside... she... Jesus!'_

The phone call to Sammy and the cryptic replies he got suddenly made sense. And now, just ten minutes ago, when he'd snatched Garrett's cell off of the floor...

Sam watched anxiously as Dean suddenly whirled around and marched out of the room. Hastily, he trailed behind him, calling out:

"Dean..."

Nothing. He simply continued to trudge down the hall.

"Dean!"

Unexpectedly, he halted and out of the blue he was in Sam's face, demanding with dangerously narrowed eyes:

"You _knew_? You knew about this and you didn't tell me?"

"I-I..."

The resentment irradiating from his brother made Sam's throat close up remorsefully.

"All this time..." Dean's voice cracked, jerking Sam into action:

"No, not all this time. I swear, man. I only found out it was her when we got to Griffin." He tried to excuse himself, but Dean didn't look convinced.

Sam could tell the sorrow and initial shock were rapidly morphing into anger by Dean's hardening expression. He was pretty sure any second now his older sibling would slug him. Good, maybe that would help ease the guilt.

"So when I called you, you-you were at..." He trailed off, refusing to say her name.

Sam nodded, dropping his gaze in shame.

"And what? You just decided it wasn't worth sharin', that it?"

Sam could see Dean's knuckles whiten as he balled his hands into fists.

Yep, any minute now, he'd be sporting a brand new shiner. Sam braced himself for the impact. When it didn't come, he blurted nervously:

"What was I supposed to do? Tell you?"

"I'm thinkin'... Yeah!" Dean's tone was heavy with caustic sarcasm.

"What for? Huh, Dean? I asked you, I asked you _flat_ _out_ if you wanted to get her up here and you said no. You said that the only way she'd be safe was if she stayed away from hunting."

"So you and Coma boy decide to go behind my back and drop in on the doc?"

"Dude, I told you, I didn't know back then. It was only when I got to Griffin that..."

The intensity of Dean's glower made Sam's blood freeze.

"We got out of there as fast as we could. She's safe now. No one else is coming over to her place anymore. It's over, ok?" Sam paused and waited for a reaction, but Dean remained perfectly still, glaring daggers up at him. "Look, what was the point in telling you? Drudge up old wounds? You were pretty messed up as it was. I-I didn't want to... I'm sorry, man."

Setting his mouth in a straight line, Dean's jaw muscle twitched from the effort to keep his temper in check. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down a couple of times and he gave Sam a disgruntled nod.

The two remained in silence for a few moments and Sam could see there was still something bothering him. He didn't push. Instead, he waited until Dean ultimately muttered in an unbearably low voice:

"Is she... um..." He cleared his throat, he couldn't meet Sam's gaze. "... she ok?"

Sam's shoulders relaxed.

"Yeah, man... she's ok."

There was another nod and a dry gulp from Dean, but he kept his stare fixed on the floor. It remained unfocused, jumbled by random, misplaced thoughts flashing before him. Dean shivered at the flickering memory of himself waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night; the phone clutched in his slippery hand and already dialling her number, only to hastily turn it off before it got a chance to ring. Though Sam had remained blissfully unaware of it, this had happened on more than one occasion, particularly during the first three months of being back and it had probably triggered Dean's first secret trip to Griffin. In total, he'd gone down there eight times. Sam only new about the most recent one, which was apparently right about the same time Garrett first popped into their lives.

'_Christ_!'

He still couldn't get over the fact that she'd been a few feet away from him while he was butting heads with Texas.

'_Wait a second!__ Blabber-mouth must have told her! That's why she came-'_

For some insane reason his stomach decided this was a good time as any to do the wiggle-jiggle and a sudden giddiness took over.

"You should have seen it. She ripped me a new one for all the dumb things I did..." Sam let out a nervous chuckle, in a pathetic way to alleviate the tension.

He was surprised when his little quip got Dean to finally look up and exclaim:

"_You_ told her?"

Sam frowned. Of course he'd told her.

"Well... yeah..."

"Um... everything?" Dean continued to probe.

"Pretty much."

"Ruby, Lucifer..."

Sam nodded, oblivious to what Dean was hinting at.

"Everythin'? _You're the one who_ told her and not Garrett?"

"How would Garrett know about what happened over the last year?" Sam scratched his head and Dean suppressed the urge to smack him.

His kid brother continued to gawk at him with a giant question mark hovering over his head. God, for a book worm Sam could be really thick sometimes. Wasn't it obvious what he was trying to fish out of him?

'_Me, you douche! __When did she find out about me being back?'_ He mentally yelled at Sam, who remained blissfully unaware. '_Bitch!'_

He was going to make him ask, wasn't he? That blockhead was gonna actually make him come out and say it!

After a frustrating moment, he figured maybe he could get around this.

"Ok so you told her about the whole shebang! How'd she take it?"

"She thinks you and I should've paid more attention in Sunday school." Sam's attempt to lighten the mood failed miserably yet again.

At his little brother's impossible daftness, Dean broke down and swallowed his pride:

"I'm not talking about that! I'm talkin' about me! How'd she take it when...?" He mentally kicked himself for not being able to keep his tone casual when he said it, but the doubt was killing him. How had she reacted? Was she happy? Was she angry? Knowing her, the latter was the more plausible of the two.

"Oh! She already knew about that." Sam added, jerking Dean out of his reverie.

"What? So Texas told her?"

Sam shrugged.

"What? What does this-" With barely restrained anger Dean mimicked Sam's shoulder shrinking. "mean?"

"I dunno. I never got around to askin' her who told her. She said she's known for a while now."

Dean looked up gobsmacked at the taller man.

'_A while?'_

What did that mean, _a_ _while? _A month, two months, half a year? How long is a while? And why the _hell_ hadn't she said anything about it? Why hadn't she-? What the-?

"Dude, are you ok?"

Dean's muddle gaze zeroed in on Sam.

"Huh? What?"

"You don't look so good..." The shaggy haired Winchester pointed out.

He'd just been informed that the woman haunting him for the last year knew he was back and hadn't done anything about it. No tracking them down to some seedy motel or random diner to give him a piece of her mind or maybe sucker punch him, not even an angry phone call. Nothing! So, yeah, Sam would have to excuse him if he didn't look so good!

Clinging to his pride, though, Dean refrained from expressing his frustrations and instead, straightened his back and shook his head. Mutely, he took his cell phone from the front pocket of his jeans.

"Who are you calling?"

"Dudley Sloan."

Though he was dialling the number, Sam's eye roll didn't go by unnoticed.

"What? Just makin' sure! You know her. The woman is a walkin' disaster. She'll always find a way to get herself into- Hello?" Dean paused, but noticing no one had picked up yet, he waited.

"Man, you really need to get over this obsession with keeping her safe." Sam half-mocked.

"Zip it, Sammy. You're still not off my shit-list." Dean warned, cocking an eyebrow and waggling his finger in his face.

Sam remained unfazed, though. If he was calling him _Sammy _everything was going to be fine.

"Yeah? Hey, it's Dean Winchester."

"_Winchester? What the-? Why are you callin' at one o'clock in the mornin'?"_ The voice on the other side was hoarse with slumber.

"Good to hear you too, Dud."

"_If you're gonna ask me a favour, callin' me Dud really isn't the best way to start off."_

"Sorry. Look, I'm callin' to know if anything's going on around those parts."

"_Like I told Bobby today. Nothing much. Just your usual salt 'n burn's. Why the sudden interest?"_

Sam could see the discomfort creeping between Dean's shoulder blades, causing his back to go rigid. It became even more obvious when he began pacing around, while rubbing the nape of his neck.

"Yeah, nothing... Um... What about in Indiana? Evansville...?"

"_You talkin' about the doc?"_

Dean halted and gaped at his brother.

"What?" Sam mouthed, confused by the sudden change.

"The doc? Wha-what doc?"

It couldn't be. She couldn't possibly be that stupid!

"_Pretty carrot head? Stubborn as a mule? Dr. Carrington. You know her. She and her momm__a used to have a clinic up in Griffin. She reopened it about three weeks ago."_

Dean's lids fell closed and he ran his hand over his face. He was gonna kill her!

"Dude... what is it?" Sam whispered.

Covering the mouth piece, Dean frowned up at his brother.

"First I'm gonna kill her and when I'm done I'm coming for you and Texas."

"_Winchester? You there?"_

"Yeah, I'm still here."

"_You worried something might happen? Look, I got one of my boys up at her place but I can get-"_

"No, no, no. Don't send anyone. It's ok. Go back to sleep."

"_Sure?" _

"Yeah. I gotta go."

Dudley Sloan didn't even get a chance to properly say his goodbyes; the phone was off and back in Dean's pocket.

"Now are you gonna tell me-Dude?" Sam suddenly found himself standing alone in an empty hallway.

After a couple of awkward seconds, he regained his composure and chased Dean down the stairs.

Ellen frowned and looked up in the direction of the heavy steps. She barely caught a glimpse of Dean as he rushed passed her.

"What-?"

When she saw Sam following suit, she tried again:

"What's goin' on here?"

"I gotta go." Dean announced curtly, picking up his leather jacket off the stool and slipping it on.

"In the middle of the night? Where the hell to?"

"That's what I'm still trying to figure-"

"She opened up the clinic!" Dean cut Sam off. "And guess when?"

Once again, he didn't get a word in.

"Three weeks ago." He poignantly arched an eyebrow at Sam as he added: "Interesting, huh?"

"I-I swear, I had nothing to do…"

"Whatever… We'll deal with that when I get back."

Dean halted mid stride when he felt his brother close behind.

"Where do you think you're goin'?"

"I'm comin' with you." Sam stated matter-of-factly.

"I just found out that Carrington went and did the one dumbass thing she could think of and she's about to see me for the first time since I came back and didn't tell her. You sure you wanna be there when we finally butt heads?"

Sam gulped dryly.

"Didn't think so. Bobby, keep an eye on him." Dean shouted over his shoulder before disappearing out the door.

"Who's Carrington?" Ellen wondered from behind the counter.

"Carring… Amy? _The_ Amy?" Bobby sauntered over to Sam as the young man nodded.

"Remember Garrett's friend? The one who hightailed out of here with his ride?"

The bearded man gave him an accepting nod.

"It was Amy."

"Who's Amy?" Ellen's question continued unanswered, while the two men exchanged ominous stares.

"And you didn't tell your brother? What's wrong with you? You got a death wish, boy?"

"Bobby…"

"Ok, am I gonna have to pull out my shotgun again to get some attention around here?" Ellen snapped, tired of being ignored.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

The closer he drew to the outskirts of her little town, the faster his pulse seemed to race and the harder his heart pounded.

Nine hours. He'd had nine _freaking_ hours to get his shit straight, organize his thoughts and figure out what he was going to say. And now that he was fifteen minutes away from her driveway his mind decided to start buzzing like a beehive once again.

It was like his heart and his brain were competing to see which one was finally going to do him in - stroke, coronary, coronary, stroke.

His sweat drenched palms slipped against the stirring wheel as he veered right, off the highway.

He decided to cling to the rage. Yes! He was furious! That was it! He was angry at her for stupidly putting herself in harm's way, for risking her life and for what? A cause? A few strangers? There were hospitals out there, for Christ's sake. Why did _she_ have to be the one…? No! It wasn't brave and it wasn't honorable. It was downright stupid. It was a stubborn, pigheaded and trademark Amy thing to do and God he was two minutes away from seeing her! His stomach churned. He was going to puke his guts out!

'_Keep your eyes on the road, Dean!' _He ordered himself.

It was around ten in the morning and she'd probably be up by now. His heart skipped a beat at the fabricated image of her stepping down the front steps of her porch and into the sunlight.

He passed by what he knew would be the last house before reaching hers and the weight he'd applied to the gas pedal for over 600 miles, suddenly lightened, causing the Impala to decelerate.

He drove for another good ten minutes before a strange scent assaulted his nose. With a creased brow, he sniffed the air until the odor became familiar. It was the middle of the week and a little early to be making a barbeque, wasn't it?

That was when he saw it. In the distance, stretching over the undulating line of the horizon, there was a dark, thick wall of smoke, creeping upwards, as if it was trying to reach for the heavens.

The 67 engine roared out its protest and the car was propelled forwards, over the top of the hill, revealing the source of the black cloud - Amy's house.

The entire west wing had already collapsed, while the east one was threatening to follow suit in just a couple more minutes.

His heart pounded furiously. He pushed on the brakes and the Impala came to a screeching halt. Slamming the door behind him he rushed blindly, but was forced to stand back when the heat irradiating from the burning building hit his skin.

He stumbled back, shielding his face with his forearm, trying to find a way inside. But he was still a good fifty yards away.

Through the shards of glass and waves of dust, Dean could see flames licking their way up the crumbling supporting beams. He saw the outline of Amy's vehicle and his breath hitched. If the car was still there, it meant that she was…

"AMY!" He roared, callously stepping forward, ignoring the heat. "AMY!"

The only reply from the house was a couple of explosions in the back that made Dean jump in surprise.

He couldn't get any closer. The scorching temperatures were unbearable, keeping him at bay, making it impossible for him to progress any further.

"Oh God, oh God! AMY! AMY!" He repeated over and over, left with no choice other than to circle the building.

He staggered and lurched, searching for a way in. There was none. As despair and hysteria took over, he actually pondered just driving the Impala into that inferno and…

'_And what? What are you gonna do? You don't even know if she's in there? Plus, half the house is down, the other is falling…'_ The rational part of him scolded.

He had to do something.

'_There's nothing you can do. Not now…'_

There was a third explosion, this one more intense and it seemed to come from the basement.

'_Oxygen bottles…'_

"AMY!" Dean screamed hoarsely and was one second away from going through with his Kamikaze plan, when he caught signs of rustling in the shrubbery out of the corner of his eyes.

Snapping his head in the direction of the movement, he squinted out the sketch of a man walking his way; the Colt materialized in his hand and the figure drew closer. Moving through the thick cloud of smoke, Dean gradually noted he was carrying something with him. It was a body; a human body.

His eyes grew large, expectantly. Three more steps and a momentary gush of hot air cleared the dust, just long enough for him to catch a glimpse of auburn locks swaying limply back and forth off the man's arm.

"AMY!" Throwing caution to the wind, Dean hurried forward.

Once having reached the man, he pushed back the hair concealing the identity of the unconscious shape he cradled and Dean's heart jumped to his throat.

"Amy! Jesus!"

"She's ok. They drugged her." The stranger explained, kneeling and settling Amy's limp body on the ground.

Dean's arms wrapped around her; his wavering hands continued to hastily brush away her wild curls, the tips of his fingers running up and down her cheek, as if trying to wake her from her slumber.

"Who did this?!" He growled, eyes never leaving her face.

"I don't know. We-we were having breakfast and someone knocked on the door. She went to answer and suddenly four guys with guns stormed inside. I-I don't know who they were, they just…" The man rambled on, watching Dean's hectic movements. "They didn't make any sense. They kept calling her Satan's ally. They were insane. They dragged us down to the basement; wanted to lock us up and burn down the house with us inside."

For the first time, Dean looked up and met the stranger's gaze.

"Out of nowhere she got this syringe but… they caught her and she got the sharp end of the needle. I shot two of them, but the other two got away and we ended up trapped in the basement. Then… I don't know. They just set fire to the whole thing. I-I barely got us out in time…"

"Um…" She stirred and Dean's eyes snapped back to her.

"Amy… AMY! Can you hear me?" He lightly tapped her cheek, but she refused to open her eyes. "AMY! Wake up! Baby, come on… wake up."

Nothing… Just more moaning.

"What the hell did they pump into her?" Dean growled.

"I don't know. Before she passed out she said it, fenta… fenta… something…" He struggled to recall her exact words. "I don't know, man. She wasn't making much sense anymore. Just said she'd probably be out for a few hours."

"Hours?!" Dean exclaimed.

"Maybe we should get her to a hospital."

"No! I don't know who did this. They're still out there and if they realize they botched up the job, they're gonna wanna come back and finish it." Dean decided immediately.

He slipped one arm behind her neck, the other under the back of her knees and effortlessly scooped her up against his chest. With some juggling, he got the passenger door of his car to open and safely placed her inside. When he was sure she was neatly seated and buckled, he closed the door and turned to the stranger demanding:

"Who are you?"

"Luke Dann." The charred man introduced himself.

Dean took his hand and shook it.

"Dean Winchester."

"_The_ Dean Winchester?" Luke questioned, clearly surprised.

Dean, on the other hand, suppressed the urge to gag. What was it with the whole '_the'_? It was Dean Winchester. No _the_, just Dean Winchester. But he chose not to comment on it and instead questioned:

"You one of Dudley's boys?"

"Yeah. I got injured two days ago and the doc here patched me up. I was gonna leave today."

"Good thing you didn't." Dean couldn't hide the relief from his voice.

If this Luke hadn't been here, Amy would have never been able to get herself out of the house and by the time he got there… well… Dean gulped and shook away the thought.

"I'm takin' her back to the Roadhouse. You better call Dudley and tell him to get a few men up here to see if they can figure out who and where the hell are the sons of bitches who tried to… do this. Try and see if they got anythin' to do with the other deaths." Dean's tone was commanding and Luke looked unwavering, nodding his obedience. "You got a ride?"

"Yeah, up there." Luke pointed at the shrubbery he'd just appeared from a few minutes before.

"You sure you gonna be ok?"

Another nod.

"Tell Dudley I'll call him as soon as I get her back to the Roadhouse, ok?"

Luke tilted his head slightly and turned to leave.

"Hey, Dann!" Dean called out and the hunter stopped to face him. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

**------------------------**

The first thing she became aware of was the throbbing in her head. Gradually, the nausea and the soreness in her left shoulder also filtered into her mind and she let out a grumbled groan. Stirring, she nuzzled into the pillow and fought to push her eyelids open, but they adamantly refused to comply.

Amy drifted back and forth between slumber and consciousness. She tried to get her brain to provide her with details on where she was, since her body and her senses refused to cooperate. The memory of a shot rang out in her head and her eyes snapped open. She blinked crazily but her sight sluggishly adjusted to the dim lighting. When it did, she found the words _Holy_ _Bible_ facing her from a heavy tome placed on a bedside table.

She was in a motel. With another groan she sat up and ran her hand through her tousled hair, inspecting her surroundings.

It was a cramped room, the bed taking up what little space there was. To her left, a single window with the blinds down and a door. To her right, a makeshift wardrobe and yet a second door which she assumed led to the bathroom.

How had she gotten here? The last thing she remembered was being dragged down to her own basement by those four lunatics.

Fentanyl…

That explained the headache and the dry throat. Hastily, she checked her watch. It was still the 29th but she'd lost four hours of her life. It was 2 pm.

A second flashback reminded her of the gunfire. Luke had managed to overpower one of the intruders and had shot him.

Amy fought to recall what had happened next, but everything was a shapeless smudge.

Was Luke ok? Had he gotten them out of the basement in time or…?

A noise coming from outside jolted her into action. Not knowing what to expect, she scrambled out of the bed and hectically scanned the room for a weapon. She didn't have much time and couldn't be picky, so she grabbed the first thing she saw - the Bible. Holding her breath, she stood behind the door and waited.

The structure creaked as it slowly opened and Amy felt her heart try to pound its way out of her chest. Bracing herself, she lingered in her hiding place and the second a human head popped up from behind the wooden frame she struck out.

The heavy volume made a dull but painful sound as it connected with the back of the stranger's head, closely followed by a guttural yelp as the man staggered forwards.

Amy didn't give him a chance to recover, pouncing on him and delivering a second and third blow. She only stopped once the man lay motionless on the floor. Puffing her locks away from her face, she cautiously stepped closer.

Was he still breathing?

"Oh God…" She panted, trying to calm herself as she leaned down.

Big mistake. Before her fingers reached the supposedly unconscious man's neck, her legs were being swept out from under her. Her back cracked as she hit the floor, her unruly hair covering her face, making it even harder to fight her assailant. She did anyway. Her arms and legs flapped in the air hysterically punching and kicking at every and anything that came near her.

In the confusion, she was pretty sure her knee had smashed against the man's stomach, but couldn't have done much damage because he just kept coming at her.

She flailed and grunted, pushing him away, but he smoothly gripped both her wrists and fastened them over her head.

With her upper body trapped between the floor and her attacker, she once more resorted to her legs. She bucked and reeled off the carpeting, struggling against the weight which pinned her down.

"You-" Amy pushed blindly. "son of a bitch! I'm gonna-" She went for a head butt, but whoever was holding her down dodged her assault. "-kill you!"

"A-"

She wasn't listening.

"Let go of me! You sick, twisted fu-"

"AMY!"

She froze and her eyes snapped open to see - her own mass of hair. Frantically, she huffed her curls away from her face and eventually she managed to create a big enough gap to see a single green eye staring down at her.

"It's me!..."

She shook her head angrily, causing her stubborn locks to give way and their gazes locked for the first time in over a year.

Amy couldn't believe it! It was _him_… Dean Winchester.

His eyes were glassy and impossibly large, and he drew harsh gasps into his chest, bringing it closer to hers with every desperate intake of air.

With his face hovering just a few inches above hers, he gaped at her; mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, meeting her equally shocked expression.

Flat on her back, her hair splayed across the floor and all around her head. Her pale cheeks were tinted pink by the exertion and she fought to catch her breath as she gawked up at him with those big, gorgeous eyes of hers.

"Jesus…" The single word escaped his parted lips.

The feel of his pant against her flushed skin broke her out of her reverie. Her reaction was automatic and she jerked her wrists from his grip.

It caught him off guard and she managed to escape his hold. With renewed leverage she scrambled out from under him and hastily crawled away; leaving him momentarily stunned on his hands and knees.

When he looked up, she was cowering against the nearby wall, anxiously pulling her shirt around herself and brushing her hair away from her face. She was still shocked, but there was an unmistakable glint of barely contained rage flaring in her emerald iris.

Her own uncontrolled panting, combined with the thunderous thumping in her chest echoed loudly in her ears. It made the silence between them unbearable.

Why was she just sitting there? Why wasn't she saying anything? He should probably say something, right?

'_Right.'_

Still nothing came out of him but pathetic gasps for air.

'_Fuck. Say something!'_

He was about to speak when, out of the blue, she stumbled onto her feet.

What was she…?

Before the question could fully form in his head, she was out the door.

"Shit!" He cursed, mentally kicking himself into action.

Ineptly, he tripped over his own legs on his way after her. She was already halfway down the porch that framed the long line of motel rooms when he stepped outside.

"Amy!"

At his shouting, she stopped. So did he.

Slowly, she turned to face him but remained mute, glaring at him.

"For Christ's sake…" He breathed. "Say something…"

Nothing.

She was trying to speak, but she couldn't get her breathing under control. Her mind was a mess, swarming with a thousand questions and yet the one thought that kept drumming away inside her head was - _Oh god, it's you! It's really you! You're alive._

'_Of course he's alive! You already knew this.' _She rationalized, in an attempt to calm herself down, but she simply couldn't.

She shouldn't be having a panic attack. She shouldn't be struggling to keep her knees from buckling out from under her. She shouldn't be… But knowing he was back was one thing, actually seeing him…

"Amy, just… please… just say something."

He was about to move closer and the threat of having him touch her again prompted her to blurt out:

"What happened? H-how did I get here?"

That was it? Out of all the things she could ask after a whole year of not seeing him and _this_ was what she came up with? Dean refused to acknowledge the pang of disappointment, so he swallowed hard and kept his tone even:

"Dann got you out of the house before it burned down."

Amy's eyes widened in surprise.

Her house had burned down? She frowned, as foggy pictures of flames and smoke sparked up in her mind. She remembered Luke's voice calling out her name, his worried face looking down on her.

"It's gone…"

Dean's voice brought her back to the present. Her stomach fluttered when she met his eyes again. God! Why did it have to keep doing that?

'_Crap_.'

"When I got there… The house… it burned down." He muttered clumsily.

When he took a tentative step towards her, Amy's instinct kicked in and she shrunk back.

Her response was like a dry punch to his gut, but he immediately stopped. She looked lost, confused, probably still suffering the effects of whatever had knocked her out cold.

"J-just get inside… you look…" He trailed off hesitantly.

Wordlessly, head bowed, she began walking back to the room. Amy made sure to keep a safe distance between them as she passed. This didn't go by unnoticed.

Letting her through, Dean watched her disappear into the motel. Following her inside, he caught a glimpse of Amy before the door to the bathroom closed.

With clammy palms, she held onto the sink for support. Leaning into it, she inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled through an 'o' shaped mouth. After about a minute of this, she gave up on the ridiculous breathing exercise. It wasn't working. Her blood was still rushing through her body at blinding speed, the chill in the back of her neck was still there and yes, the mantra in her head was still the same.

'_I get it! He's back! Just shut up!'_ She mentally screamed at herself.

Opening her eyes, she hardly recognized the woman staring back at her from the mirror. Her hair was shaggy and dank, sticking to the sides of her cheeks; grey smudges blemished her flushed skin as well as her clothes.

She turned on the tap, ignoring the way her hand was shaking, and splashed the freezing water onto her face and looked up again.

This was absurd! Here she was - destitute, running from God knows who, in the middle of God knows where, with no money, no ID, no chance of going back home… Yeah, 'cause that was a big no-no! How was she going to explain the fire to the cops? Or the charred body of the man Luke had gunned down?

She was screwed. And while all of this was going on what was her brain stuck on? The man on the other side of the door.

What was wrong with her?

"Shit!" She cursed out loud.

-------------------------------

Dean's maniac pacing came to a grinding halt at the sound of the lock clicking. His breath hitched as he whirled around and his eyes met Amy's. Her face was clean and her hair tied into a messy ponytail. With arms wrapped tightly over her chest, she dithered to step into the room.

The silence stretched between them; both minds impossibly scrambled, neither able to start up a conversation and put an end to the glaring tension.

He stared at her intensely and Amy had to make a conscious effort to keep her jittery gaze locked in on his face. As the seconds ticked by, it became almost impossible. Under his severe scrutiny, she wanted to crawl out of her skin.

"You ok?" Dean finally spoke, picking up on her blatant discomfort.

"Do I _look_ ok?" She cracked under the pressure.

"Hey! Don't bite _my_ head off." Dean snapped back. "_I_ wasn't the one who got you into this mess!"

"I'm sorry if I'm not exactly Miss Sunshine over here, but I just found out I'm _homeless_." She emphasized the last word by pursing her lips into a tight, plastic smile.

"And whose fault is that?"

Amy's eyes bugged out.

"You're pinning this on _me_?!"

"What the _hell_ were you thinkin'?" He involuntarily raised his voice as the frustration and concern for her bubbled to the surface.

"Um… there was a knock, I answered the door." She retorted sardonically, walking fully into the room.

"That's not what I'm talkin' about." He tilted his head at her and she waited for him to explain. "I'm talkin' about the _dumbass_ move of opening up the clinic again."

"Hunters were dying!" She promptly exclaimed.

"Exactly!"

She gaped at him for a moment and then shook her head:

"Ok, I fail to see your point here…"

"Someone's offing hunters and you decide to get in the middle of it? What was going through your head when you came up with that dozy? You might as well have painted a big bull's eye on your forehead!"

Amy couldn't believe it. He had the nerve to blame this on _her_?!

"So what?! I was supposed to just sit around twirling my hair while all of this was going on?" She puffed.

At her reckless disregard for her own safety, Dean's already flimsy self-control broke. He marched up to her and growled:

"You got nothin' to do with this."

"Excuse me?" She craned her neck to look up at him. "It's what I do! I'm a doctor for crying out loud!"

"Then work at a hospital and keep your nose out of this!" He glared down at her.

"I'll put my nose wherever the hell I want to put it!"

Dean's hands fisted at his sides, but he didn't budge. Neither did Amy.

"In case you've forgotten I was doing this long before you-you… before…" She tripped over her own words as her throat suddenly collapsed at the memory of what had made her close up the clinic in the first place. "Before last year." She eventually pushed out.

"It's not the same." He gritted out low, with a tight jaw. "There's a war goin' on out there."

"And everyone has to pitch in. I was doing my part." She argued passionately.

"Your part?!" He snorted down at her.

"Yes!"

"You were alone in the middle of nowhere taking in strangers, Carrington! Who does that?!"

"Newsflash! I do!" She yelled up at him. "My mom did it and I've been doing it ever since I was a kid! It's what we do! We patch up hunters!"

"Hunters don't need your help!" He suddenly shouted and Amy froze.

Her eyes bounced all over his face. He couldn't possible mean what he was saying. Hunters didn't need her?

"Really?!" She snarled furiously. "What about you? I seem to remember patching you up."

"Sam should have never brought me to your place."

She couldn't believe he was saying it. Her baffled gawk searched his face, while he shamefully dropped his head to the floor. After a few excruciatingly muted seconds he looked back at her. She watched his Adam's apple bob before he spoke with feigned calm:

"He should have just left me in New Harmony." He studied her expression and under the unbearable weight of her gaze he resorted to a shrug to lighten the mood: "What difference did it make? I still ended up in the pit."

Amy was stunned into silence. He was actually denying everything that had happened between them? Everything?!

A suffocating combination of anger and rasping pain hit her, twisting her gut. She felt disgusted, nauseous. Amy guessed that this new revelation explained a lot, particularly why he'd failed to tell her about his miraculous return from the pit.

She let her furious glare linger on his face for a few moments. Ok, then… If this was how he wanted it, that's how it was going to be. Fine. By. Her.

After an excruciatingly long pause, she swallowed the rage, set her chin and giving him a light nod questioned:

"Ok then… What now?"


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

The unexpected change in her demeanor caught him off guard. Dean's gaze swept over every inch of her face, trying to get a read on her. What was she up to?

One second she is ready to pounce on him and bite his head off, the next she's just standing there, agreeing with him and displaying no sign of rebelliousness. This wasn't like her. Amy never conceded and definitely never gave up on an argument. She was the most pigheaded woman he'd ever met.

When he didn't reply she slanted her head at him expectantly.

"Well…?" She questioned.

Her tone was flat and all business; her expression - a blank slate.

"We get you to the Roadhouse." He answered, still searching for hidden traces of defiance. He found none.

"Ok. Let's go."

She was already halfway out the door when he called out:

"Whoa, whoa, hold up there."

She raised both eyebrows at him.

"First we get something to eat." He stated.

"It's ok." She shrugged. "I'm not hungry."

"Good for you! But I got the munchies. We're stoppin' at the next diner."

It was like he was trying to pick a fight, but Amy didn't bite.

"Fine."

-----------------------------------

The engine rumbled softly as the Impala wolfed down the asphalt. The only other noise in the cabin came from her nails, as Amy tapped a tense beat on the door's armrest. It was driving him insane.

"Will you just quit doin' that?!" He snapped.

She threw him a bored, sideways glance and inquired:

"Will you buy me a pack?"

"No."

"In that case…" She drummed her nails harder and made sure to annoyingly pop the 'p': "No-pe."

They exchanged glowers for a few extra seconds. When Dean leaned over. Amy instinctively recoiled. She allowed herself to exhale once she realized he was reaching for the glove compartment.

His hand scrambled around for a few minutes until he fished out a cassette tape. Slipping it into the player, he sat up straight and returned his eyes to the road. Amy jostled when the first cords of Black Sabbath's _Paranoid_ burst from the speakers. The combination of a powerful guitar and Ozzy's high pitch shrieks easily overshadowed her meager tapping.

"Much better." Dean smirked broadly.

Amy scowled at him.

'_Son of a…' _She cursed inwardly at his insolence.

Amy was pissed. No! She was more than pissed, she was downright fuming. Her life officially sucked.

Despite coming from a very prosperous background and having acquired a hefty sum upon her mother's death, she'd always made a point to live solely off of her modest salary. This had been one of the many issues between her and her ex, Michael.

While you could say that Amy was rich, Michael was definitely loaded. He was used to the finer things in life and enjoyed them thoroughly, except when he went out with Amy. Because when they were together, they stayed on _her_ budget.

At first, Michael couldn't understand why she so adamantly refused to let him pay for things. Eventually, he realized Amy utterly loathed depending on anyone, _specially_ a man. Once she flat out told him - she didn't need looking after, financially or otherwise.

Amy was a self-sufficient woman and she was damn proud of it. That was how it had been for all of her adult life. Well… up until thirty minutes ago, when she'd woken up in a sleazy motel room to find out her house had burned down and she was on the run, with no money and no ID. Ultimately, this meant one thing - she was completely and utterly dependent on Dean Winchester; the most infuriating man she'd met to date and the one in the entire planet she absolutely did _not_ wish to have to rely on.

And the worst of it? He was undoubtedly enjoying his newly acquired position of power.

Severely nicotine deprived, Amy had actually swallowed her pride and had asked Dean for money to buy a pack, a request which was promptly and cheekily denied.

'_Gah! I _hate_ my life!'_

She turned her scowl at him.

'_Look at that smug, pompous grin! Grr…'_

The mental picture of ripping the tape from the player and shoving it down his throat soothed her momentarily.

'_God, I need a smoke!'_

--------------------------------------------

They never did get to a diner. Instead, the first place they found that served food was a ratty biker bar with questionable clientele. Upon entering the shady establishment they were immediately engulfed in a cloud of heavy smoke. Whereas Dean coughed out an unintelligible complaint, Amy inhaled deeply and relished in the scent.

Currently, she sat at a table, sulking across from Dean, watching him gobble down his burger and fries.

"You gonna eat that?"

"I'm not hungry. I would, however, really like to have a smoke." She replied grumpily.

"I told you, I ain't feeding your addiction, Carrington." He responded matter-of-factly with a closed mouth smirk. "Eat."

Amy let out a disgusted huff and pushed her plate away. Dean just chuckled and merrily continued to scoff down his lunch. Once he was done with it, he questioned:

"Last chance. You gonna eat or not?"

"What do you think?"

He simply reached over and grabbed her plate.

After about five minutes of sulking, which was readily ignored by a fully entertained Dean, Amy sighed loudly and stood up.

"Where're you goin'?" He asked looking up.

"Bathroom." She groused stomping away.

From the moment they'd entered the bar, Dean had noticed the head turns and starving leers thrown Amy's way. Even as he munched on his food, apparently unaware of his surrounding, the reality was that all his senses were on high alert, just waiting for the first miserable bastard to make a move on her. He was just itching for a good brawl. He needed it.

But despite the blatant ogling directed at her, no one had the guts to make a pass; not while she was sitting with him. Once she got up, it was a whole different ball game.

Ten feet; that was as far as she got before the first idiot approached her.

Dean remained perfectly still, watching as she smiled at the man and clearly dismissed him.

She couldn't have taken more than five strides and already a second suitor was lining up. This guy seemed to be cheered on by his two other pals who were eyeing the exchange from the pool table. Amy effortlessly dodged his advances and Dean actually felt a twinge of pride worming around in his stomach. The feeling was crushed though when she got to the bar.

"Hello, darlin'."

Amy suppressed the urge to gag at the supposedly charming term and was about to just waltz passed the schmuck sitting on the stool when her eyes caught the thin cylinder burning away in his left hand. Schmuck guy was a smoker!

Maybe it was the withdrawal syndrome, or maybe the strain of the last few hours had finally made her blow a gasket but, somehow, she suddenly realized she was not only slowing down but actually turning towards the man and sitting down on the seat next to him.

"Hey…" The sugar in her voice was foreign even to her.

What was she doing?

"And what is a gorgeous woman like you doin' in a shitty watering hole like this?"

"Pit stop." Her eyes lingered on the cigarette and he noticed it.

"You smoke?"

She nodded, spellbound by the hefty aroma irradiating from him.

"Want one?"

"God, yes!" She gasped.

With a sly smile, he handed her a cigarette. Bringing it to her mouth she let him light it for her. He'd barely scorched the tip and Amy was already inhaling ravenously, drawing the poisonous air into her lungs. Her lids fluttered as the nicotine gradually seeped into her blood.

"Bad day?"

The question cruelly hurled her back to reality and she actually looked at the stranger for the first time.

Damn the schmuck was ugly! Despite the baseball cap he wore, Amy guessed, from the shoulder length mane he sported, that hidden under the red hat there was probably a mullet. On any other person that would have been enough of a turn off, but on this guy, his dated hairstyle was the least of his problems. He had beady eyes, a tiny nose and an angry scar running down the left side of his cheek. But it was his ridiculously bulky moustache that took this disaster to a whole new level. The huge mass of brown hair veiled his mouth and extended down the corners of his concealed lips almost all the way down to his chin. It looked like he had a dead ferret dangling under his nose and it was absolutely bizarre.

"Huh?" She mumbled, trying hard not to stare at his moustache.

"Bad day?"

"_That_ would be an understatement." She refrained from providing him with more information than absolutely necessary.

Like she'd predicted, hairy schmuck gaped at her, sleazily running his gaze up and down, probably trying to picture what she had under her worn out, dirty clothes. He ran his callous hand over his stubble before reaching over for a loose strand of her hair. Her reaction was pure instinct and she readily jerked back.

"Don't worry, sweet thing. I ain't gonna hurt you."

'_No, but if you try to get your paws on me again I sure will!'_ She countered in her thoughts, while outwardly forcing on a stiff smile.

From a distance, Dean glared daggers at the two; particularly the man sitting to Amy's left. Though the stranger's face remained concealed from him, the hunter figured he was probably in his late thirties. The width of his shoulders rivaled that of Sam's, and Dean noted the sizeable arms protruding from the confines of the white t-shirt, as well as the back muscles stretching the fabric of his black leather vest, distorting it. But unlike his brother, this man's structure was meatier, not as lean or sculpted. When he slanted along the bar to hand Amy her cigarette, Dean caught a glimpse of the ludicrously abundant moustache that overshadowed his mouth and the four day-old stubble.

What the hell was she thinking?!? Though every fiber of Dean's body screamed at him to march up to them and drag Amy out of there, he stayed put and waited. His self-control finally broke when the man reached for her and before he knew he'd dropped a stack of bills on the table and crossed the room to tower over the couple.

"I thought you were goin' to the bathroom."

Amy jumped up and whirled around to see Dean standing about a foot away from her.

"I'm having a smoke with...." She looked at the stranger and waited for him to fill in the blank.

"Bear."

Amy and Dean did a synchronized double take. Dean's second glance was also partially owed to the man's choice of facial hair grooming.

'_You gotta be kidding me_!'

Now that he was up close and personal, the thing looked like road kill; road kill that might just spring back to life and attack you.

Bear? What kind of name was Bear? Amy sized him up and eventually agreed that the nickname was suiting, considering the man's hefty build. If you factored in the moustache fiasco, you really had a full package.

"Bear…" She repeated uncertain and returned her gaze to Dean.

The hunter didn't bother acknowledging the new acquaintance.

"Put that thing out and let's go."

"No." Amy countered with trademark haughtiness.

He'd been bossing her around all day; she was putting her foot down. She challengingly slit her eyes at him. It was his move.

"Carrington…" He spoke slowly and precisely. "I'm not gonna say it again. We're leaving."

"I'm not done yet." She insisted defiantly, bringing the cigarette to her lips to take a long drag.

Before she could though, Dean snatched the butt from her hand and curtly ground it into the astray.

"You're done."

"Hey!"

Dean ignored her protest and seized her forearm.

"Let's go."

This was the moment Bear decided to intervene. He got on his feet and stood to his full height, making sure to parade the extra inches he had on Dean. Although he had to crane his neck to meet Bear's eyes, the shorter man didn't seem threatened at all. Amy, on the other hand, was fretfully bouncing her gaze from one male to the other; her forearm still trapped in Dean's grip.

'_Oh, boy! Not good, not good.'_

"I think you should let the lady go." Bear growled.

Unfazed by the intimidating tone, Dean narrowed his eyes at the larger man and scoffed sarcastically:

"And I think _you_ should _really_ reconsider the whole fur ball thing you got goin' there." He drew circles in the air, signaling the area surrounding Bear's mouth. "It's just nasty, _Beaver_."

Amy's eyes grew wide in shock. Was Dean suicidal? What was he doing?

"What did you call me?!" Bear roared, dauntingly leaning forward.

Hastily, Amy freed herself of Dean's hold on her and clumsily slipped between the clashing duo. She looked like a mouse trapped between two giants and despite this all she could think of was the fact that Dean was now pressing fully against the entire length of her body. She desperately tried to focus on the titan in front of her and overlook the chill in the pit of her stomach.

'_Focus!'_

"Um… thanks for the cigarette, Beav-"

'_Damn it!'_

"…Bear." She corrected ineptly, innocently batting her eyes at the stranger while at the same time backing away from him.

This, unfortunately, also meant that she had to snug closer to the man behind her. For an instant, she could have sworn she heard his breath hitch, but in the rowdy bar she couldn't be sure.

"We-we _really_ should be going." She stuttered frantically, as her senses obstinately remained centered on the warmth irradiating from the hard body behind her.

For his part, Dean was also struggling to keep his attention from straying, but that turned out to be quite a challenge what with every inch of Amy pressing flush against him.

'_Jesus Christ…'_ He groaned in his mind.

Without warning, Amy spun around and Dean staggered back at the loss of contact; her face was a breath away from his. He was too caught up by her lips to register her words the first time around. She pushed her hand into his chest and hissed out:

"Move!"

He shook himself out of his reverie and looked up from her mouth.

"Let's go." She shoved him harder, causing him to stumble further.

Ultimately, and almost mechanically, he did as he was told. They were on their way out when Bear snickered loudly:

"Puff, what a wuss..."

Everything seemed to come to a screeching halt as the remaining patrons of the bar, already having noticed the altercation, eagerly turned to see how this was going to play out.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks, causing Amy to let out an _oomph_ when she crashed into his back.

'_Oh, no… No, no, no, not now… come on, just keep going…'_ She mentally begged him.

For a second she actually thought he'd heard her plea, but then Bear added mockingly for all to hear:

"Hiding behind a girl… Chicken…"

'_For Christ's sake! Just. Shut_._ Up. You moron!'_ Amy cursed.

Her shoulders slumped in defeat as Dean slothfully turned on his heels. She didn't have to see his expression to know he was planning to do something really stupid.

He attempted to sidestep her but Amy was right back in his face.

"Winchester, this is not the time for dimwitted displays of manliness. You're very macho." She assured him, condescendingly patting his chest. "Just let it go."

His eyes dropped to meet hers and hope flickered inside her.

"Come on… let's go." Her voice was uncharacteristically soft.

Damn this woman! Whether it was to make him furious or to sooth him, she sure knew how to push his buttons; he was putty in her hands.

The sound of clucking reverberated through the room and effectively broke whatever spell she'd cast on him.

"You gotta be kidding me!" Amy exclaimed, twisting around to question beaver guy: "What are you? Five?"

"Stay out of this, darlin'." Bear spat contemptuously.

Amy felt Dean shift behind her and hurriedly blocked his passage.

"Don't do this, Winchester… Let's just-"

Placing the keys in her hand, Dean promptly interrupted her:

"Go wait in the car."

"No. I'm not going anywhere if… Shit!" She swore at herself as the hunter smoothly dodged her attempts to get in his way.

With a grimace, Amy watched Dean cross the bar with all the calm and confidence in the world until he was standing in front of Bear. From a distance, the added height that the man had on him was painfully evident, as well as the flagrant weight difference between the two; it made the hunter look like a stick figure.

If this came to blows, Bear was gonna make mincemeat out of him.

There was an ominous silence in the bar as the standoff dragged on. It broke when Bear threw the first punch. With blinding speed Dean ducked left and at the same time swung his fist for a sharp uppercut, sending the larger man reeling back into the counter. His powerful back collided with the wood and then slumped droopily down to the floor.

Along with everyone else Amy was flabbergasted. That was it?! All that fuss for one lousy punch?

She gaped dumbfounded at Bear shaking himself out of his stupor before redirecting her attention to Dean. With heated strides he reached her and declared:

"We can go now."

"H-How did you…? How…?" She stammered, while her large eyes goofily went back and forth between Dean and the man groaning and moaning his way between two stools.

An immature tickly spread from her gut to the rest of her body, making her giddy with unsolicited pride. But she couldn't help it. The guy was twice his size and still Dean had managed to floor him in less than two seconds. That was just… Wow!

'_Not wow! Quit gloating!'_ Her intellect reproached.

'_I'm not gloating! You gotta admit it was pretty damn cool the way he-'_

'_Cool?! This isn't high school, pompom girl?! It was a stupid and irresponsible thing to do! He could've gotten hurt! The guy was a giant!'_

'_Exactly! And he still knocked him out with one hit. One!'_

'_Oh, God… you're falling for him again…"_

'_Am not! I just-'_

"Keys."

Dean's curt demand snapped Amy out of her mental debate to realize he was already at the door. Awkwardly, she rushed after him and quickly handed him the keys.

The engine rumbled and the two mutely returned to the road. No matter how hard she tried, Amy's brain kept running replays of the single blow and she couldn't help staring at him.

'_You are so falling for him!' _The annoying voice in her head pointed out the obvious.

'_No, I'm not!'_

Unwittingly, her fingers had found their way to the twin loops dangling from her necklace. As the discussion carried on, she tensely fiddled with them through the fabric of her shirt.

'_Amy you don't want to go through that again…Remember-'_

'_Shut up! Just shut up! I know what I'm doing.'_

'_Then why are you still hanging onto those?'_

Amy froze and hastily dropped her hand to her thigh. Once she was sure the rings were safely hidden under her collar, she chanced a sideways glimpse at Dean. Thankfully, he seemed oblivious to her panic and she gradually allowed her taut muscles to relax.

**AN:** Sorry about the long break between chapters. I was abroad and I didn't have an internet connection. I couldn't post any new chapters. But don't worry, I've been writing and as soon as I'm satisfied with the outcome I'll post the rest. So you the next ones should come up more regularly. ;)

As always, thanks for reading and the wonderful feedback.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

It couldn't have been more than ten minutes since they'd left the biker bar, so she was surprised to find they were pulling over at a gas station. She checked the meter just before the engine was turned off. They still had plenty of fuel. Why were they stopping? Amy didn't get a chance to ask, as Dean wordlessly exited the Impala, leaving her in the passenger seat to deal with the nagging voice in her head.

After a few minutes, Dean reemerged from the service station and made a straight line to the Impala. He slipped behind the wheel and gruffly plopped a plastic bag into her lap.

He didn't bother meeting her cocked eyebrow and simply turned the key in the ignition. Seemingly ignored, Amy checked the contents of the bag herself and was surprised to find about six packs of Marlboro Lights. He'd bought her cigarettes.

They prepared to leave the gas station when she piped up:

"I don't have a lighter."

"Use that one." He replied dismissively, using his chin to indicate the car lighter under the cassette player.

"What about when we're not in the car?" She insisted.

"Ellen probably has one." Dean reasoned, driving around the fuel pumps.

Ellen? Who was Ellen? And was she going to be joined at the hip with this woman so that she could have unlimited access to a lighter?

This was what Amy called typical non-smoker reasoning. When you're a smoker you know you always need two things - an extra pack of cigarettes and at least two lighters.

"Who's Ellen?"

"The owner of the Roadhouse."

They were almost back on the highway when Amy continued:

"Can't you just buy me a lighter? We're at a gas station and since you bought the-"

"Fine." Dean practically roared.

He pressed on the breaks and reluctantly returned to the service station. When he was back, he dropped a red metallic container onto her lap.

'_Just one? I need an extra…'_

Maybe this wasn't the best time to let him know about a smoker's fixation on lighters. By the way he was gripping the wheel, she was pretty sure if she let out another peep he was going to chew her head off.

-------------------------------------------

In the last half a mile of highway she'd shifted in her seat exactly ten times. Ten freaking times! He'd actually counted. She'd also tied and untied her hair twice and now she'd gone back to drumming her nails on the armrest of the car door. Why couldn't she just stay put? Pick a comfortable position and stick to it. It wasn't that hard.

Her fidgeting was driving him crazy and he was on the brick of snapping, but Dean held fast, channeling his frustration onto the gas paddle. The Impala revved up as a response. He figured the faster he drove, the sooner this torment would be over.

Amy checked the speedometer; they were doing ninety.

Was he trying to get them killed? Cause if that was the big plan, she wasn't on board.

"Unless you want to get pulled over, I suggest you get your foot off the gas." She mumbled, without dispensing him a glance.

Her advice was readily dismissed.

'_O-kay then…'_ She gave up, crossing her arms over her chest.

That pose didn't last long as she moved once again and placed her hands under her thighs. She just didn't know how to deal with the suffocating tension and absolute stillness Dean had imposed on them. But she was stubborn and refused to be the one to give in. Except… dealing with uncomfortable silence wasn't exactly Amy's strong point. It made her jumpy and the only thing that could sooth her was nicotine.

Problem was she'd already been afforded one too many cigarette stops. If she asked again, this would be the fifth in under an hour.

After some pondering, lighting struck and she smiled inwardly. Convinced that she'd found the solution to her dilemma she blurted unabashed:

"I gotta pee." Her idea was quite straightforward - stop at a diner, go in, slip out the back door and light up. She'd be back in five and he'd never know.

Dean glowered at her. She was doing it on purpose. She loved making him miserable.

"What?" She exclaimed with feigned innocence. "It's a basic biological need. I can't help it!"

He allowed his skeptical stare to linger on her for a few disconcerting moments but eventually teethed with a clenched jaw:

"Fine."

"Um… What are you doing?" She uttered, noticing they were slowing down and veering to the right.

"I'm pulling over so you can do your business." He explained grumpily.

"Out in the open?!" She questioned aghast.

The car came to a stop and the two locked glares.

"There's a bush right there. You can go behind it." Dean pushed.

"On the side of the road? Have you lost it?!"

"What?" He shrugged, unable to understand her predicament.

She gaped at him.

"Do you seriously think I'm gonna squat down behind some shrub and drop my pants? Winchester, in case you haven't noticed…" She started slowly but ended up shouting: "I'm a _girl_!"

"Believe me, I've noticed!_"_ The response was out of his mouth before he could properly process it and his eyes dropped to her chest out of their own accord.

Amy nervously grasped at her shirt, causing Dean to snap himself out of his daze and redirect his attention to her stunned face.

She gulped. Oh, now she _really_ had to get out of the car!

Her shaky hand immediately reached for the handle, but her palms were too sweaty and her fingers too uncoordinated to get the damn thing to open. Anxiously, she fumbled with it. When she heard it click she was out of there like a bat out of hell.

She beelined straight past the infamous bush and into the grove, until she was swallowed by the heavier foliage. The moment the Impala was out of view, she scrambled the pack from the back pocket of her jeans.

The wooziness reared its ugly head halfway into the first cigarette. Amy was still trying to come up with an excuse for the feeling when her knees began threatening to buckle. In spite of the warning signs, she insisted on finishing what she'd started. She crushed the butt with a rickety foot and took a deep breath.

The idea of going back to the Impala made her stomach churn and against better judgment, she lit up a second cigarette. As a result woozy and wobbly quickly escalated to faintness and Amy knew she was in trouble when the darkness started looming in the corners of her eyes. She tried to steady herself on a nearby tree, but it turned out the trunk was more than an arm's length away.

Everything grew distant, her sight blackened…

Did she just hear someone call out her name? She never got the answer to her question as her legs finally gave out from under her. A cool breeze lapped up at her sweat drenched cheeks and she freefell to the grass. She shut her eyes tightly and braced herself for the unavoidable sting of her head slamming against the hard ground.

---------------------------------------------------

Dean had always known women took way too long when they went to the bathroom, that was just in their nature. But he'd always assumed half of the time was wasted on makeup touchups and hair fluffing of whatever you wanted to call it. No mirror in the middle of the woods and Amy's hair…? Factoring in the events of the day…? Well, no amount of fluffing in the world would help. So why was she taking so long?

Worry and anxiety gradually overshadowed the potential embarrassment of interrupting her while she was still… doing her business, and he climbed out of the car.

He thread lightly and carefully at first, taking five strides back for every ten forwards. He was at the edge of the grove when he halted and ran a hesitant hand over the nape of his neck. Maybe this wasn't such a smart move. Amy would rip him a new one if she was…

He glanced at his wrist watch.

'_Come on… how long can a girl take…?'_

A hunter's intuition ultimately won out and he continued cautiously into the grove until he found her standing behind a large tree. His gaze zeroed in on the cigarette burning away in her right hand.

'_That little, conniving…_'

She'd lied to him! She didn't need to go! She'd wanted another… Oh, now she was going to get it! He was going to… Dean's contemplations on revenge were put on hold when he saw her body waveringly sway to and fro.

"Carrington..?"

Her hand came out to flail in the air just before her knees caved in from under her and she plummeted to the floor.

"Amy!"

In a heartbeat, Dean swallowed the distance between them, catching her in the nick of time.

------------------------------------------------

It was supposed to hurt. She was supposed to be wincing and groaning right about now. Clumsily threading between awareness and oblivion she tried to make sense of it all. Why did it feel like her head was securely cushioned and not cracked against some random rock?

It wasn't touch, sight or sound that gave her the answer but her sense of smell. Even half-conscious the unmistakable scent of leather and soap was recognizable to her - Dean...

"Amy! Amy, what's wrong?!" He shouted through a clenched throat.

Holding her up against his chest, with blood rushing madly in his veins, his fingers restlessly pawed at her, clearing her locks away from her face.

Jesus Christ! She was white as a sheet, her eyes partially rolled back, but she wasn't out cold yet.

"Come on, come on! Baby… what's wrong?"

He was shaking her. It only made her headache worst and she winced. Amy tried to get him to stop, but her mouth wasn't cooperating and all that came out of it was inarticulate garble.

She wasn't coming out of it!

"Amy! Talk to me, damn it!" He yelled in a combination of panic and rage.

"Um… stop… yelling…"

A powerful wave of relief washed over him at her intelligible albeit feeble moan. He granted her request, but continued to run his trembling hand all over her face and neck.

She opened her eyes. Her blurry vision faded and met the frightened green iris hovering over her. Little by little she shambled back to reality and her senses and broken body told her she was nestled in his bear hug; one arm looped around her, pulling her in, his elbow pillowing her head safely.

Though the mulish side of her refused to acknowledge the warm and fuzzy feeling rumbling in her chest, Amy closed her lids and allowed herself to nuzzle against the leather.

'_Just for a little bit…'_

She snuggled closer and Dean gulped.

"Hum…" She sighed into his jacket.

She felt his thumb softly caressing her cheek and that was it - her protective instinct took over.

'_Shit, the rings!'_ She remembered out of the blue.

Her eyes snapped open and she recoiled from his touch. The change in her was palpable and Dean knew the fleeting moment of truce was over.

Had he seen them? She carefully read his expression; all she could see was concern.

"I-I'm okay…" She mumbled, weaseling herself free of his embrace.

After some struggle she succeeded. Scrambling away, she precariously propped herself up on her elbows. She wasn't ready to get up just yet; her head was still spinning, her legs still tingling. Sneaking a peek downwards she was reassured that her necklace was securely hidden under her shirt and allowed herself to relax.

"Oh, yeah, you're the picture of health." The sting at her reaction brought on the hostility in his voice. "I can tell by the whole fainting thing."

"I didn't faint… I…" She was still too weak and lightheaded to come up with a decent comeback.

"You fainted 'cause you've been chain smoking like a chimney." He accused.

"No!" She used a little too much punch in her retort and the dizziness returned.

"Then what the hell happened, Carrington?" He demanded.

The gears in his brain turned.

"Was it that thing they pumped into you?" He questioned alarmed.

"Huh…?" Her mind was still too fuzzy to grasp his reasoning leap.

"The thing that knocked you out…"

"The fentanyl…?"

"Whatever…"

He didn't care what the damn thing was called. He just wanted to know if she was going to be ok.

"Well… yeah… but…"

She hated feeling this way. She couldn't think straight and the worst part of it? She wasn't sure if she should be blaming her near fainting or the lingering feel of his touch.

'_Concentrate!'_

She blinked wildly and added:

"I think its hypoglycemia."

Dean cracked:

"For cryin' out loud, Carrington, will you just speak English?!"

'_Are you gonna be ok? Just tell me you're gonna be ok.'_

The sense of absolute uselessness taking over him was disconcerting. Goons, demons, madcap arsonists he could deal with. He could at least do something to keep her safe. But this…? He had no idea how to help her with this.

"Sugar… I haven't eaten today."

"And whose fault is that?!" He exclaimed.

'_Yours!' _She wanted to scream at him.

Because if getting air into her lungs was already such a _colossal_ task when he was around her, stuffing food into her fluttering stomach was definitely out of the question.

In her haste to put some distance between them, she made the mistake of attempting to sit up.

Bad idea!

Her arms faltered and she toppled over. Dean was cradling her before she could collapse.

Amy shook herself back into awareness and groaned inwardly. Why did he have to keep grabbing her? Touching her…? Making her feel weak in a whole new way?

"Will you just stop grabbing me?!" She grumbled, pushing him away.

Dean scowled, taken aback by her ingratitude.

"I _will_ if you stop _fainting_." He gritted, but wouldn't let go despite the fact that she was shoving him.

"I'm fine! I just need to eat something."

"Ok then." He agreed and without warning scooped her up.

Amy let out a yelp at the unexpected move. He trudged gruffly through the trees and every single step felt like a nail was pounded into her brain.

"Ouch! Watch it!" She griped.

"Quit whining." He shot back.

"Ow, my head…" She moaned when the jostling ceased.

They'd reached the Impala. With an elaborate juggling act he managed to open the door and placed Amy inside.

"Man, it hurts like a… Whoa!" She shrieked, jolting up when the back of the seat suddenly reclined back.

"Just lay back." Dean ordered, already behind the wheel.

"You're such an oaf!"

With one eye closed, she kept the other on him and watched him reach for the back seat. When he returned he handed her a plastic package.

"What's this?" She asked uncertain.

"Beef jerky." He stated. "Eat."

Seriously?

"I can't eat this." She countered.

"It's the only edible thing in the car that doesn't have mold in it."

"What an appetizing thought." She snorted sarcastically.

"Eat it, Carrington."

She was dubious but relented. She really needed to get some food in her, so she took one of the hard sticks and reluctantly brought it to her mouth.

"It's like a block of cement!" She protested, unable to take a bite.

"Eat. There's a diner about a mile away." He informed her, starting the car.

"How do you know?"

Oh, he knew. Considering the number of times he'd taken this road over the last year, he knew every gas station, diner and run down bar of the entire route.

"I just know. Now dig in."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

While the potatoes sizzled in the industrial sized fryer, the cook took a timeout to get an update on the daily gossip. Bending over the counter, he called out to the youngest employee in the diner.

"Yo, pimple boy, what's the deal with Bonnie and Clyde?" He inquired, singling out a specific booth by jutting out his chin in its direction.

"How many times I gotta tell ya, Marty? Quit callin' me that! I haven't gotten a pimple since high school, dude." The shabby brown haired man griped.

Wiping his hands on his apron, he drew closer to the slab of wood that separated the bar from the kitchen area.

"Whatever _dude." _Marty jeered dismissively and insisted: "So…?"

"Dunno. It's Carol's table."

The two men watched the strange couple in silent pondering. When neither could come up with a spicy scenario, Marty called for female back up.

"Hey, Katie!"

At the sound of her name, the blonde waitress turned and demanded dryly:

"You got my order, Marty?"

"Fries are almost done." He answered. "Come over here for a sec."

Halfheartedly, the young woman shoved the cloth she'd been using to clean up the empty tables into the front pocket of her apron and shambled over.

"What do you want?"

She was in one of her moods.

"What's they're story?" The cook grinned cheekily and Katie followed his gaze.

"I don't know." She made a face before pronouncing disdainfully: "But he's gay."

"Huh?" Marty was surprised by the revelation.

"Doesn't look gay to me." The younger man countered, unconvinced.

"I've walked past that table five times; he hasn't checked out my ass once. Trust me, the guy's gay." She assured them.

Marty sniggered under his breath while the other male questioned sarcastically:

"So your ass is like a gay-radar? That it?"

"Mock all you want, Lance. _Mine_ is a _fine_ ass." She emphasized her point with a sharp twist of her hips, effectively shutting him up.

Marty's chuckle morphed into a full laugh, earning him a dirty look from Lance.

"I ain't paying you to stand around and chitchat."

The trio's attention turned to the approaching old waitress, owner of the diner. The scolding tone didn't have much of an outcome on the group though; Carol was the most easy-going boss they'd ever had.

"What are you yakking about anyway?"

"The wonder couple over there." Marty supplied.

Carol warily eyed the duo sitting at one of her assigned booths, trying to decide which one of them looked worse. Both had gloomy bags under their eyes, evidence of their lack of sleep. Although the young man sported a recent shiner, his clothes were pretty much unscathed. The woman, on the other hand, was a mess. Even if you ignored her pasty complexion and her greasy hair, bunched up in an untidy bun, with a few loose curls clinging to the sides of her face, you couldn't possibly disregard her attire. Every single item flaunted what looked like burned charcoal stains.

The woman. Unquestionably the woman looked worse, the waitress ultimately picked.

"Katie, here, says he's gay 'cause he won't give her the time of day." Lance intervened sardonically.

"Gay? That boy?" Carol's right eyebrow climbed almost all the way up to her graying hairline before she shook her head and guaranteed: "Not a chance!"

"Ha! Told ya!" Lance exclaimed a little too enthusiastically.

Katie was still doubtful:

"What makes you so sure?"

"He hasn't taken his eyes off her _once_ since they sat down. Not _once_. It's even making _me_ uncomfortable." Carol informed.

"So what? He could just be a psycho or something?" Katie argued, unwilling to accept the possibility that a guy that scrumptious wouldn't be interested in her.

"Sugar, there's ax-murderer staring and then there's off the deep end, love struck staring. That there? That's one hundred percent love struck staring."

"To me the guy looks like he's ready to bite her head off." Marty offered skeptically.

"Or jump her."

Carol's borderline crude comment made her the target of three pairs of shocked eyes. But the older woman simply shrugged unapologetically:

"I may be in my fifties but I'm still a hot red blooded woman."

At this the remaining trio instantly recoiled. The mental picture in Lance's head made him grimace in painful disgust:

"Please don't say stuff like that, Carol."

His plea was left unanswered as the owner of the diner turned to Katie and advised:

"Sweetie, you can forget about that one, 'cause that girl? She's got him. Hook. Line. And sinker. Believe me, I've bussed enough tables to know that much." Redirecting her focus to the cook, she ordered: "Now, you mind giving me that burger, the poor girl looks like she just got rescued from a refugee camp."

"Sure. Just waitin' on the fries." Marty said, still watching the couple sitting at the far end of the room.

-------------------------------------------------------------

From the moment they'd set foot inside the diner his eyes had landed on Amy and hadn't budged yet. Come to think of it, he'd been doing it since he'd handed her those foul sticks of dry meat he called food. But at the time she'd been too out of it to let it bother her. In the claustrophobic booth though, she had to stop herself from shrinking in her seat under his constant scrutiny.

"Would you stop with the ogling already?" She cracked under the pressure. "It's freaking me out!"

She wanted to talk about freaking out? How about what it felt like to see her pass out? Huh? Twice, in one day! Nu-uh, he wasn't going to let her out of his sight! So when she announced she was going to the bathroom he readily followed suit.

When she realized he was walking after her, she stopped in mid stride and questioned with a frown:

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm goin' with you." He replied matter-of-factly.

"Come again?" She said it a little too loudly and instantly regretted it.

Standing in the middle of the diner, the two had already drawn the attention of half the patrons in the place, add in Amy's little outburst and every Hicksville in the room was gawking at them.

'_Great!'_

Trying to forget the number of eyes on them, she leaned in.

"It's the _ladies_ room!" She highlighted the word by hissing it out.

"So?"

"So?!" She whispered, shaken up. "What do you mean _so_? You don't exactly qualify as a lady, Winchester."

"Neither do you." He retorted promptly.

Amy glared up at him for a couple of seconds, but he showed no sign of backing down. With a frustrated sigh she continued towards the washrooms, with Dean hot on her trail. They passed the threshold into a small passage. On either side there was a door, the one on the left had a pictogram of a woman.

The instant they were safe from prying eyes, Amy whirled around and, waving a furious finger in Dean's face, grumbled:

"This is bordering on stalking!"

"Just do what you gotta do. I'll stay here."

She threw him a deadly look and disappeared into the ladies room.

Blowing out a frustrated breath, Amy leaned into the sink. She didn't dare look up, afraid of what the mirror might throw back at her. Instead, she turned on the faucet and, scooping up a generous amount of cool water, splashed it against her burning cheeks. She felt sticky and smelly. God, she really needed a shower, but she wouldn't get one for another four hours at least.

'_Cat bathing it is.'_ She decided, undoing the buttons of her shirt and slipping it off.

She was so engrossed in her task, she failed to notice when the door began to stir.

He shouldn't be doing this! She was entitled to her privacy. Despite the chastising voice in his head, his hand lightly nudged the wood. The image of her shirt hanging from the sink should have stopped him. Instead, he prodded further. The door steadily slid under his command and Dean held his breath as she gradually came into view. She was clad in nothing more than a pair of jeans and a white bra. Hunched over the sink, she let her hair veil her face, running her wet hand over the nape of her neck. From the tips of her fingers tiny beads of fresh water emerged. Spellbound, his eyes followed their path. They trailed down the length of her spine and over the swell of her lower back, before vanishing under the fabric of her jeans, tinting the denim in the process. Dean swallowed against a suddenly parched throat.

Her groan snapped his attention back to her cloaked face.

'_She's gonna kill you…'_ His mind sing-songed, but he ignored the warning.

He watched her hand travel along a soft line that connected her neck to her shoulder. Her fingers traced the contour of her collarbone and her head rocked languorously to the side for better access. A shimmer of brightness bounced off the metallic string she wore and captured his interest.

On any given day, if Dean Winchester was faced with a half naked woman, and especially if said woman was Amy Carrington, trinkets would be the last thing he'd be checking out; but not this one and not on this day. Though it was a fairly common necklace, what drew him in were the twin loops dangling from it.

He instantly recognized the rings and his heart frantically pounded off a couple of extra beats. All of a sudden, his knees turned into jell-o, much like the rest of his legs and he was forced to flatten a clammy palm on the threshold, just to keep from toppling over.

'_Jesus Christ!'_ He swore. '_Jesus freakin' Christ_!_'_ The mantra drummed away in his head so loudly, he didn't even realize he was staggering backwards and propping himself against the opposite door.

He lost track of time and was jostled back to the present when Amy emerged from the bathroom; scornful scowl still lingering on her face.

Wordlessly, she walked back into the diner and he followed her all the way to their booth. It was pure autopilot mode for Dean Winchester. His scrambled brain was unable to acknowledge when the waitress brought Amy's food and she began digging in.

He sat there, silly gape fixed on her chest area, trying to catch the outline of the rings through the shirt.

"Do you _mind_?!" Her sharp demand once again snapped him out of his daze and his eyes zeroed in on hers.

At first, he was confused by the accusing look she was giving him. He hadn't said or done anything, right? So why the irritated frown?

Belatedly, a light went on in his head. No wait! She thought he was checking out her rack? He wasn't! The rings! He was looking for the…? He wasn't… He wouldn't… Well… Not that he hadn't stared at her breasts before… As far as staring material they were pretty much top notch… but not _now_! Now he was too busy trying to make sense of it all!

"S-Sorry!" He stuttered ineptly, causing Amy to cock a suspicious eyebrow at him.

What was wrong with him? He was acting… jittery. Why was he jittery all of a sudden?

Out of thin air, a polyphonic version of _Jessie's_ _Girl_ began playing, throwing Amy off for a moment. Eventually, she grasped that it was Dean's phone. The hunter, on the other hand, remained oblivious to this and didn't make a move to pick up the call. Poor Rick was already bellowing out the chorus and Dean just sat there, goofily gawking at her.

Was he on something?

"You gonna get that?" She questioned when the lack of a response began drawing attention to them.

"Huh?" He mumbled, shaking his head.

"Your pants want Jessie's Girl." She pointed out to him.

"Oh, right!"

Gawkily, he scrambled the device out of the front left pocket of his jeans and flipped on the lid.

"Hey-a, Sammy." He greeted.

"_Dude, where have you been? I've been trying to call you all day."_

She'd hung onto _them_? Why?

"_Dean, you there?"_

"Huh? Yeah, I-I was probably out of area. Shitty coverage." He said, powerless to get the nagging questions out of his mind.

"_I got worried and called Sloan. He told me what happened. Is she ok?"_ The concern was evident in Sam's tone.

Why would she keep them if she didn't…?

"_Dean?"_

While she thought he was dead… it would make sense; a way of mourning maybe. But now that she knew he was back? And she had known for a while…

"_Dean…?"_

Why keep them? And so close to her never the less?

"_Dean!"_

Sam's yell broke through his reverie. Oh, right! He was talking to his brother. What had he asked?

"She's in one piece." Dean's eyes returned to Amy and her stomach flopped. "We're on our way over. Should get to the Roadhouse by ten."

There was a long pause before Sam spoke again, hesitantly:

"_What about you?"_

"What about me?"

"_H-How you holdin' up? You ok?"_

Caught somewhere between his memories and the present image of Amy playing with the bread crumbs in her plate, Dean replied honestly:

"Yeah, I'm ok, Sammy."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

From the second he'd caught on that it was Dean on the other side of the line, Garrett put up tent next to Sam. The instant the call was over, he inquired anxiously:

"How is she? Is she with him?"

Sam furrowed his brow, confronted by the fretfulness irradiating from Garrett.

"Amy?"

The Texan nodded emphatically.

"She's ok." Sam replied, eyeing him.

"Thank God…" Garrett gasped, his shoulders visibly relaxing at the news of her safety.

Man, the kid was really gaga over the young physician. Sam wondered what would happen once Amy and Dean got back to the Roadhouse. From what little interaction he'd seen between Garrett and Amy, it was obvious that the young hunter had no qualms about making his feelings known to everyone. And that was ok, but would he act on them? And how would that sit with Dean? Watching Garrett make a move on Amy?

It didn't take long before Sam came to the conclusion that this whole mess was not going to end well. He wracked his brain for a solution or at least a way to minimize the potential damage.

"So… You… Um…" Sam began awkwardly, not knowing how to approach the subject.

He knew his endpoint - let Garrett in on Amy and Dean's involvement and the fact that it was in his best interest to stay as far away from her as possible. That was, of course, if the kid wanted to keep his head attached to his neck and all his bones intact.

The tricky part was achieving this without giving too much away. If he told Garrett about the true extent of Dean's feelings for Amy, Sam was pretty sure he'd be the one worrying about head-attachment and bone fractures.

"You like her, right?" He threaded carefully.

Garrett's response was immediate and without hesitation:

"Yeah. What of it?"

Wow! The kid had guts; Sam had to give him that. Contrary to Dean, who was a complete idiot when it came to admitting his true emotions, Garrett just came out and said it; flat out, no _ifs_ or _buts_.

"What about her… Does she…? Has she ever indicated…?" Sam knew the answers to his half questions. Amy would never have any romantic inclinations towards the doe-eyed hunter. What he wanted was to know if Garrett was aware of this.

"Not yet." Garrett's attempt at nonchalance was feeble; it was clear that the lack of reciprocity bothered him.

Ok, so he'd gotten him to admit his affection for her and the fact that it was one-sided, now all he had to do was slip in the Dean card. But how was he going to do that?

"You know… Um… Dean and I… Um… we've known Amy since we were kids…" Sam glanced at Garrett and, noting he was following his reasoning, continued ineptly: "We kinda fell out of touch over the years but… Um… last year… Um…"

'_How the hell am I gonna do this?'_

Garrett kept watching him carefully, waiting.

'_Right… gotta come out and say it some time!'_

"Well… Um… Dean… Um… he kinda… Um…"

'_Just say it, say it - Dean is in love with Amy and his gonna rip your throat out if you try anything and I do mean _anything_ with her!' _Sam thought, but instead what came out was:

"Amy and Dean… they have a… _history_." Sam's eyebrows knitted high over the bridge of his nose and his pleading expression practically begged: '_Please don't make me say anything else.'_

"Yeah, I know." Garrett huffed almost casually and it was as if the weight of the world was lifted off Sam's shoulders.

"You know?!"

"I mean, I don't _know_, but I kinda figured something was up. The woman almost plowed down half the people in Missouri to get here when I told her he was back." Sam froze, but Garrett remained oblivious to the stunned reaction: "She drives like a-"

"Whoa-whoa, back up there for a second, Texas." Sam interrupted, confused. "Wha-what do you mean - when _you told her_? S-she didn't know?"

"No."

"And this was two weeks ago… when you first got here?" Sam just wanted to make sure he was getting his facts straight.

"Yeah, she was patching me up and I mentioned I was coming to join you guys. She had no idea he was back." Garrett explained.

So she'd lied about knowing Dean was out of the Pit? Ok, maybe not _lied_, but pretty much misled him by saying she'd known for a _while_.

'_Why would she do that?'_

"Why didn't you guys let her in on it anyway?"

Sam's cheeks burned shamefully under the burden of Garrett's query.

"Dean… he thought she'd be safer not knowing."

"Puff, what an idiot! If it was me coming back from Hell? I'd be at her doorstep in a heartbeat; like rat on Cheeto."

Sam threw the kid an odd look.

"Right…"

'_You clearly don't know Dean.'_

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Though there were only about 10 miles to go and Amy knew better than to stir things up, when Dean tried to unsuccessfully sneak a glance her way for the umpteenth time, she couldn't hold it in any longer:

"What?!" She demanded harshly.

He turned his attention to her and she felt the urge to smack that leer clear off his face.

"What?!" She repeated with growing frustration at his cool and calm exterior. "What is it? Do I have ketchup on my face or something?"

"Ok, where did that come from?" He scoffed, sly smirk growing a bit wider at her obvious discomfort.

Maybe he shouldn't be smiling, it would only serve to tick her off even further, but how could he not? She'd kept the rings. _Their_ rings! Better yet - she wore them around her neck! That meant something. It had to! No amount of shouting, angry staring or teeth gnashing would convince him otherwise.

When he'd first learned that she'd known about his return and hadn't tried to contact him, it was as if he'd been hit by a truck. And having actually been in a collision with one, this was one analogy Dean could actually make. To him, it meant she'd moved on. Somehow, she'd managed to do what he couldn't - neatly file him and their history in the past. At the time, his rational side agreed that this was a good thing. She would be safe. His body, however, didn't seem to want to jump on that bandwagon, judging by the suffocating sting that had settled in his chest. The stifling feeling vanished, though, the second he'd laid eyes on the loops sparkling in the chain around her neck.

As he'd gradually processed the information, a new and unexpected sensation had started brewing in his gut; slow at first, it had built up to a chaotic and overwhelming fluttering in his stomach. So this was what giddy felt like? Funny… he couldn't remember the last time he'd experienced that emotion. He wasn't even sure if he'd ever had. But damn it felt… Great!

Amy squirmed nervously in the seat next to him, jaw set, glaring daggers at him, cheeks tinted red with anger. His breath caught in his throat at the sight. He still had a shot… The thought kept pounding away inside his head, and for every blow his stomach did a 180.

"You've been eyeballing me since we left the diner!" She accused.

"You're paranoid!" He puffed dismissively.

Amy snapped at his condescending snort.

"Don't call me paranoid!" Amy waved her finger at him. "I am _not _pa-Watch out!" She suddenly screamed when she caught a glimpse of a stray cat in the middle of the highway.

Dean's eyes veered back to the road. His reflexes kicked in at the sight of the animal and he brusquely spun the wheel, missing the cat by only a few inches. The Impala swerved hard to the right, jostling viciously as it traded the smooth asphalt for a jagged patch of dirt. Dean slammed on the breaks, instantly propelling both he and Amy forwards. Her hands flattened on the dashboard, but it wasn't enough to stop her head from smashing into the hard panel.

"Oh…" She moaned, blinking a couple of times against the throbbing in her head.

"Amy!"

She heard him yell out. It only made the pain worse.

"Oh, boy…" She moaned, leaning back into the seat.

Amy hadn't properly recovered from the scare when suddenly two large hands were on her, pawing at her, tying to grasp her lolling head, hectically and quite ineffectively brushing her hair away from her face.

"Are you ok?" Dean's voice boomed in her rattled brain.

Still very woozy, Amy unsuccessfully attempted to swat him away while groaning something unintelligible.

One persistent hand finally locked under her jaw and forced her to look at him, while the other pulled back the curtain of hair to reveal a small gash just over her right eyebrow. Dean's pounding heart skipped a beat and he repeated more forcefully:

"Are you ok?!"

"Oh, God!" She begged, lids closed against the sting. "Please don't shout."

But Dean wasn't listening and he yelled again:

"Are you alright?"

Her eyes snapped open, pinning him with a fuming scowl.

"Will you quit shouting already?! My head feels like it's gonna explode!"

"Then answer the damn _question _woman!" He shot back.

He loomed over her with obvious fear plastered on his face; the awareness that it was brought on solely out of concern for her safety sent a chill down her spine.

"I'm fine…" She exhaled, hesitantly trying to weasel herself free, but he wouldn't let go.

Once he had confirmation of her wellbeing, his focus shifted to the wound on her forehead. He leaned closer to get a better look and Amy shrank back further.

"Why the hell didn't you put your seatbelt on?" He grumbled, his tone smoother, less ruffled.

"Why should I? You and Sam never-"

"You're not me and you're not Sam!" He cut her off gruffly.

Amy didn't dare say a word under the intensity of his stare.

"Put it on!" He commanded, finally letting go of her to open the glove compartment.

Amy watched him take out a first aid kit. Popping it open, he picked up some gauze and dabbed it in alcohol. He turned his attention back to her and noticed she had failed to follow his order.

"Put. The seat belt. On." He bit out.

She gave him an eye roll, but conceded. She pulled on the strap but it wouldn't budge.

"It's stuck." She grumbled.

"Pull harder."

She did and once again failed.

"Still stuck."

"Oh for Christ's sake, just…" He reached over, basically stretching his body across hers and roughly yanked at it, getting pretty much the same result.

She chuckled and the feel of her warm breath on his neck momentarily threw Dean off. He shut his eyes against the freezing rumbling in his gut and tried again, making use of all the strength he could muster.

Amy's wholehearted laughter filled the confined space when he ended up ripping the belt from its hinges.

"Son of a bitch." He cursed, scowling at the now useless strap.

"Oh, my god… That's… that's…" She couldn't even finish her thought, laughing uncontrollably. "…priceless."

"Not funny."

"It's a little funny." She ridiculed, trying to even out her breathing and focus her blurry vision by wiping away the tears that welled up in her eyes. When she managed to do so, she was unexpectedly confronted with Dean's face just inches from hers. This drained all the humor out of the situation, especially since it seemed that he too was conscious of their proximity. As it usually happened whenever Amy felt cornered, she responded by attacking.

"This hunk of metal is-" Her snide words were swiftly interrupted.

"Watch it, _sweetheart_! You're talkin' about my baby!"

"Well, I hate to be the one to tell you, but you're _baby_ is disintegrating." She jeered, matching his irritated glower.

To her surprise, the silent glaring didn't last long. She watched his pursed lips relax and widen for a Cheshire grin, the same annoying one he'd been sporting for the last two hours. Contrary to Amy, he didn't look at all bothered by their closeness, and actually seemed to be relishing in it.

She mentally kicked herself when she instinctively broke eye contact and dropped her gaze. It was Dean's turn to chuckle.

"Gimme that!" She made a move to snatch the gauze from his hand, but he was faster.

Dodging her assault, he promptly replied:

"I'll do it."

"I can-Ouch!" She hissed as the alcohol made contact with her wound.

"Stop whining." He mocked, continuing to dab the blood off her forehead.

"It hurts!" She complained, pulling away.

"Keep still."

She let out a frustrated sigh and allowed him to tend to her injury.

The tension in the car mounted as the silence stretched on.

"Does your head still hurt?" He finally asked.

His eyes met hers and the butterflies fluttering in her stomach went haywire.

"I'm fine. Are you done?"

"Just a gimme a sec, will ya?"

"Fine." She crossed her arms over her chest and put on a mean pout. "What?!" She snapped when he chuckled again.

"Nothing." He shrugged, still smiling.

'_For crying out loud, how long does it take to clean a wound?'_ Amy thought, unsure of how much of this she could take.

He was just so god damn close.

"Not nothing. You're snickering. Why?" She demanded.

"You just look so darn cute when you're sulking." He answered unabashed, provokingly meeting her eyes again.

He thought she was cute?

'_Focus, Amy, don't let him get to you.'_

"Ok, what's going on here?!" She inquired, ignoring his previous statement and the effect it had on her.

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"What's with the look?"

"What look?" The grin tugging at the corner of his mouth thwarted his attempt to convey innocence and Amy quickly pointed it out:

"That look!" Her finger singled out the smirk.

He dropped his hand from her forehead and was now free to focus solely on her face. His intense inspection of her features made her stammer awkwardly:

"You look like-like…"

"Like what, Amy?"

Oh, he was good! He was _really_ good; slipping in her name like that? It crowned him master of the cat and mouse game.

"Like you just swallowed Tweety." She shot back with a little more confidence.

She was still the mouse in that analogy though, as it was obvious by Dean's lopsided grin.

"The bird?"

"Stick to the subject, Winchester." She retorted grumpily.

"I would, if I knew what you're talking about, Carrington." He chortled, further ticking her off.

"I'm talking about the Mr. Sunshine attitude you got going on since we left the diner!" She explained, doing her best to keep her gaze from dropping again.

He wasn't going to win this. No way in _hell_!

'_Don't look away, don't look away.'_

"Can't a guy be in a good mood?" His stare drifted to her mouth and lingered there.

She tried to recoil. Problem was her back was already pancaked against the leather seat; there was no more room to back up.

She cleared her throat in an attempt to redirect his eyes to hers.

"What's the matter, Carrington? Nervous? You're breathing kinda hard."

His cockiness jerked her out of her daze and she quickly threw back at him:

"Maybe that's cause you're hogging all the air." Shoving him away she added: "Get off me."

He relented and mercifully returned to his place behind the wheel.

Seizing the kit from him, she fished out a band aid and clumsily glued it to her forehead. When she looked back at him, she found him still grinning at her.

"Cute." He snickered.

"Just drive." She ordered; eyes on the stretch of road.

AN: just wanted to let you know that I probably won't be updating in the next few days, maybe even a couple of weeks. Real Life kinda sucks right now. I'll try my best to keep the hiatus as short as possible, but no promises….


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

The Roadhouse came into view and Amy clutched at the handle. She clung to it all the way to the row of cars parked near the front entrance of the bar. The Impala hadn't yet come to a full stop and she was already popping the door open, practically hurling herself out of the moving vehicle. She had to get the hell out of there, had to get away from him; as far as she could.

Standing up to her full height, which wasn't much to begin with, Amy relished her new found freedom and prepared to greedily suck a deep gulp of cold evening air into her lungs. She was halfway through doing so when, out of the blue, two giant paws landed on her chest, promptly squashing her against the side of the car. The wind was knocked out of her and a strong sense of déjà vu hit her. But before her stunned brain could process what was going on, a large wet tongue dragged across her cheek. Amy let out a resounding _oomph_ as a tail-wagging Rumsfeld proceeded to slobber all over her face and neck.

"Rummy! No… Don't… uhg! Rumsfeld, stop… No! Bad dog! No… Oh, yuck!" She squealed, yet the overly enthusiastic beast continued.

For a second, a chuckle drew her attention away from the dog. Out of the corner of her eyes, she caught a glimpse of Dean. He stood a few feet away, arms casually crossed over his chest, merrily witnessing her struggle with Bobby's dog.

"For Christ's sake…! Rummy… stop! Winchester!" Amy yelped breathless.

"Yeah, Carrington?" He chimed without a care in the world, as if nothing was going on.

"Do something!" She managed to gasp out.

"Like what?" He continued with aggravating calm.

"Get him off of me!" She bellowed; the anger building in her raspy tone.

"I thought you didn't need me, Xena." He mocked.

She feebly swung her head left and right in an attempt to dodge Rumsfeld. The attack escalated when the dog began humping her leg.

"For Christ's sake! Rummy, no!"

Dean's reaction? He burst into laughter.

"Winchester, if you don't do something I'm gonna…" She shouted feebly, flailing her arms at the animal.

"Oh, come on, he's just happy to see you."

"Quit being a dick and help me!" She cursed.

"Excuse me?"

Rumsfeld focused on her neck and Amy seized the opportunity to pin Dean with a fuming glare. He remained unfazed and coolly inquired:

"Did you just ask for my help?"

She set her jaw and widened her eyes at him. Again, the threatening expression had little effect on Dean, who simply smirked back at her.

"Well…?" He raised both eyebrows at her.

"Well, what Winchester?!" She snapped.

"Are. You. Asking. For _my_ help?" He stated plainly.

"What?! This is not the time to-" She stopped mid-sentence when the dog resumed humping her leg. "Oh, for the love of- Get off me, Rummy!"

Amy glared at Dean again. The two stubbornly held stares for what felt like an eternity. In the meantime, Rumsfeld continued to defile Amy's leg and she was sure every single inch of her exposed flesh was now covered in dog drool. One more lick across her neck and Amy cried uncle:

"Ok! Fine! I'm askin'!" She grudgingly shouted her defeat.

"Askin' what?" He pushed her buttons.

"You son of a-" She growled.

"Nuh-uh. Not what I wanna hear from you right now, sweetheart."

"You're so gonna pay for this."

"You promise?" He grinned mischievously. Taking a step forward he coaxed her: "So…?"

She took a deep breath and swallowing her pride teethed:

"I'm asking… for your help."

With a victorious grin, he swaggered over and grabbed the dog by its collar, yanking it away from her. But Rummy wasn't going to go down without a fight and in five seconds Dean was flat on his ass. The slobbery tongue was now on _his_ face and it was Amy's turn to gloat. But alas, it didn't last.

"Down, boy!" Upon Bobby's stern command the dog instantly froze.

Between grunts and curses, Dean eventually stumbled back onto his feet. His manic wiping of the drool covering his face came to a screeching halt at the sound of Amy's giggle.

He did his best to put on a stern glower, but it was damn near impossible once she burst into a hearty laugh. Inevitably, the sight and sound of her laughter triggered a powerful tingling sensation that quickly spread through his whole body and sent the butterflies in his stomach into a frenzy; much like it had back in the car when he'd destroyed the seatbelt.

Man, seeing her laugh openly like that was just…

'_Gorgeous_… _Drop_. _Dead_. _Gorgeous_.'

"Sorry 'bout that, Amy." Bobby's apology jolted Dean out of his reverie.

He was thankful the old man wasn't looking at him. The flush he was probably sporting wouldn't have gone by unnoticed by the trained hunter.

Amy welcomed the bearded man's warm arms around her and returned the embrace. When he pulled away, he had a sympathetic look for her.

"I heard what happened. How are ya holdin' up?"

"I'm homeless and covered in dog drool. I'd say, all in all… not one of my best days." She tried to lighten the mood, but the melancholy filtered into her voice.

"You're here!"

Amy glanced over Bobby's shoulder just in time to catch a panting Garrett scurrying her way. He didn't acknowledge Dean's presence. Good thing too, otherwise he might have misinterpreted the death glare directed his way.

Garrett had her trapped in a suffocating hug.

"Hey…" She greeted him; her arms awkwardly squished against her sides.

How long was this hug gonna last?

In Dean's opinion – too freaking long! Deadly glaring morphed into action and he managed to trudge two angry steps towards the embracing couple before a panicky Sam intercepted him:

"Hey, dude!" The taller Winchester nervously padded his brother's shoulders; Dean's stare never left Amy though.

"Man, it's good to see ya." Garrett's enthusiasm was unmistakable and Bobby shuffled his feet ineptly.

"Yeah… Um… You too…" Amy replied uneasily.

Garrett reluctantly relinquished his hold on her. A screaming tension mounted in the group, but the younger man remained oblivious to it; too busy gawking dreamily at Amy. Bobby on the other hand, couldn't ignore it and at Dean's fidgety demeanor he promptly suggested:

"Um… How 'bout we get you two inside?"

"Good idea." Sam readily agreed.

The Roadhouse was packed and a heavy layer of smoke hovered above the multitude of patrons. Taking notice of her newly arrived guests, Ellen abandoned her usual post behind the counter and came around to greet them.

"Good God, young lady, you're a mess."

Amy shrank, unable to argue against the statement.

"Amy, right?"

She nodded.

"Hi, I'm Ellen, I own the place."

Amy accepted the outstretched hand and shook it. Ellen threw a sideways glance at Dean.

"What happened to you?"

"Rumsfeld." He responded flatly, never taking his eyes off a still awestruck Garrett.

Turning her attention back to Amy, Ellen suggested:

"Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?"

Amy didn't get a chance to respond, being taken by the forearm and maneuvered expertly around the tables. The two were half way across the room when Ellen halted, spotting Dean trailing behind them.

"And where do you think you're going?" The bar owner asked.

"I gotta get this goo off too."

"_You_ can use the downstairs toilets." Ellen declared, continuing up the staircase.

It wasn't long before the doctor's disastrous appearance drew the unwelcomed attention of the nearby customers. Amy bowed her head and her hair came down to veil her face from the intrusive stares. She couldn't help smiling when she heard Ellen growled:

"Something you need, buddy?"

"N-no ma'am." Was the week reply that followed.

Amy had a feeling she was gonna like Ellen.

--------------------------------------------------

The hairs framing his face were wet and spiky when he emerged from the restroom. Finding his brother sitting at the counter, Dean trudged towards Sam and took the empty stool next to him.

Sam pondered whether or not to tell Dean about what he'd uncovered in his earlier conversation with Garrett. He hesitated. There were too many questions left unanswered. Why had she lied about it? What was the point? Pride… Maybe? And what did it really matter when she'd found out about Dean's return? Did it really change anything? Would Dean care?

After careful consideration Sam decided not to approach the subject, not yet at least. Not until he figured out where Amy and Dean stood in their relationship. The interaction he'd just witnessed between the two had been too fleeting for him to draw any conclusion. Where they together? Doubtful. One thing was clear though - Dean's feelings for her hadn't changed. If anything, they'd become stronger judging by his brother's intense reaction to Garrett.

So…" Sam started, sliding a beer in his brother's direction.

"Any word from Dudley?" Dean expertly cut him off.

'_Straight to business…How original!'_ Sam thought, noticing Dean's eyes zeroing in on Garrett who was currently taking orders and bussing tables.

"Nope. He and his boys are already in Griffin. They're checking the local reverend. Didn't give me any details, though."

"We'll call him in the mornin'." Dean gritted, taking a hefty sip from his beer.

Sam shook his head.

"You keep that up and you're gonna stare a hole into the kid."

"Good." His growl was followed by another mouthful of liquor.

"Just let him be. He's harmless." Sam began, careful not to press any delicate talking points.

The way his brother was fiddling with that bottle it was best not to provoke him.

Dean snorted. Finishing his drink, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. His glare followed Garrett around the bar.

"Dean…"

Nothing… just more intense glaring.

"Dean, is there something you wanna tell me?"

This time he turned to meet Sam's concerned expression.

"I'm not in the mood for one of your therapy sessions Sam!" Dean stated curtly.

"What is it with you, man? Why can't you just talk about it? Something's eating you up inside. Maybe it would do you good if you-"

"Or maybe we should _drop_ _it_." Dean interrupted curtly.

Sam sighed loudly. After a couple of minutes of silence and against his better judgment he tried again:

"Amy's gonna stay with us, huh?"

"Only way I can make sure she's safe."

"And you're ok with that? Havin' her around… all the time."

"Ya! I'm fine." Dean replied dryly, picking at the label of his second bottle.

"Dude, you were together for one lousy day and you're already tied up in knots, how are you gonna handle seeing her every-"

"I'll handle it!" Dean jerked back.

One more minute filtered by before…

"You two… Um… are you…?"

"What, Sam?! Are we what?!"

"Look, you guys need to sit down and talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Are you kiddin' me?"

"Just stay out of this, Sammy." Dean warned. "This doesn't concern you."

"Oh, no? Then how come I'm always the one who gets stuck in the middle of it?"

"She and I… We got an agreement."

"An agreement?" Sam cocked a doubtful eyebrow at his older sibling.

"She's gonna stay here until we fix this."

"And?"

"I don't know, alright!" Dean suddenly shouted. "I don't have a freakin' plan right now! Just keepin' her safe!"

"Believe me. I want her to be safe, too." Sam said in a comforting voice. "But you gotta sort this thing out first, cause otherwise…"

Dean was shaking his head and Sam couldn't help scoffing:

"So, you're just gonna ignore what happened over the last year? That it? That's the brilliant plan? You're gonna pretend like nothing happened?"

"Seems like a good a plan as any."

"Man, for once don't be a pighead and just tell her how you feel."

Sam's proposal prompted Dean to whirl around and growl:

"I'm not gonna tell her anything. There's nothing to tell."

"What about what you-"

"There's nothin' to tell!" Dean reiterated with menacing resolve.

Sam raised both hands in defeat.

"I give up. Do whatever you want, just try not to kill every guy that looks at her, ok?"

"Funny." Dean put on a plastic smile which dissolved almost instantly.

"It wasn't a joke. I'm serious. Garrett likes her."

A low rumble escaped Dean.

"And he's not as moronic as you when it comes to expressing it."

"Your point?"

"No point. Just letting you know."

As he walked away, Sam wondered if he hadn't made things worse. His goal had been to calm Dean, divert his attention from Garrett and prevent another clash between the two. He had the feeling he'd achieved the exact opposite.

---------------------------------------------

"Towels are in the closet." Ellen continued. "I was gonna get you some of Jo's old clothes, but Garrett went out this afternoon and bought you something you could wear." She explained, pointing at the bags next to the bed. "When you're done, you can come down for dinner." She offered, already at the door.

"It's ok. I think I'll just get a shower and hit the sheets. I'm tired." Amy declined.

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"OK, then… Night."

"Hey, Ellen?" Amy called out and the older woman stopped.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks… for everything. I really appreciate it."

"You're welcome, honey. I'll see you in the morning."

Once Ellen was gone, Amy began inspecting her new quarters. It was a relatively small but quaint room. From the doorway one was immediately faced with a large window on the opposite wall. To the left of the window there was a desk and on the right, a bed covered with white linens. The only other furniture was a bulky wooden closet. Simple, but somehow homey.

She ran her hands through her disheveled hair, her brain buzzing with old and new memories as she walked into the hall and into the bathroom.

-----------------------------------------------------

The steam seeped into the dim lit corridor as she cautiously creaked the door open for a peek. Once she was sure the coast was clear, Amy bravely stepped into the corridor and did a mad dash towards her bedroom, clumsily hugging the towel closer on her way.

When she reached her destination, her grip on the damp fabric tightened at the sight of Dean Winchester standing in the middle of her room! Her back went rigid and her heart seemed to want to pound its way out of her chest.

"What the hell are you doing in here?!" She managed to push through a clenching throat.

He twirled around unceremoniously to reveal a self-satisfied smirk across his face. It froze though, once he took in her half-naked form. She watched his Adam's apple bob a couple of times before he shook off the initial surprise.

"Checking on you." He tried to sound blasé and perfectly at ease with her state of undress, but the crack in his tone thwarted his attempt at casual.

'_Pfff… Yeah, right! More like checking you out…'_ The voice in her head scoffed.

His gaze trailed languorously over her body and her discomfort doubled with every passing second.

"Do you mind?!"

"No, not really." He replied with a cheeky shrug that ticked her off.

"Well _I_ do. Get out!" She demanded.

He readily ignored her command and instead turned his attention to the bags beside her bed. Amy remained glued to the spot, dripping onto the floorboard, momentarily stunned by his insolence, watching him gingerly poke around her things.

"Winchester!" She broke the silence, trying hard to disguise her nervousness.

Though her voice-box was cooperating, her fingers were not so keen to comply. Her hands frantically fidgeted with the edge of the towel, desperately pulling at the material.

He responded by fishing out an item of clothing. Amy's cheeks burned at the purple lace thong dangling from his index finger.

Dean popped a quizzical eyebrow at her and pointedly looked her up and down before inquiring:

"What exactly have you got goin' with this kid?"

Amy was speechless and too embarrassed to pick up on the traces of contempt in his query. Her mouth opened and closed mechanically while her panicky stare alternated guiltily between Dean's face and the piece of underwear.

"I-I… I don't…. That's not-" She was stuttering like an idiot.

'_Damn it!'_

Dean, on the other hand, was struggling to keep from growling, as the anger quickened his pulse.

"Well…?" He eventually spoke again.

His authoritarian tone snapped her into action. Jumpiness instantly gave way to rage and she stomped towards him.

"Gimme that!" She said, snatching the thong and promptly stuffing it back into the bag.

He wasn't going to let her get to him.

'_No way it hell.'_

He didn't care. If she wanted to hook up with some snot-nosed country hick, that was her problem.

'_And he's not as moronic as you when it comes to expressing it.'_ For some reason, Sam's ominous words came to the forefront of Dean's mind.

"Stop going through my stuff." She grumbled and despite the hectic beat in her chest, she was able to meet his defiant stare to add: "And the nature of my relationships is none of your concern."

"Whatever…" He brought his shoulders in to showcase his indifference. "Just never pegged you for a cradle snatcher."

"Ha! You're one to talk." She sneered haughtily. "At least Garrett has half a brain, which is more than I can say about the bubblegum cheerleaders you hook up with."

The fact that she hadn't denied his accusation didn't go by unnoticed; it fuelled his volatile temper:

"Half a brain is generous, don't you think?" He glared down at her. "The kid can't even figure out what underwear you wear."

"I could wear this." She lied boldly. Truth was she would never be caught dead in one of those. The damn things chafed!

"Yeah, right…" He rolled his eyes at her.

"Oh, now suddenly you're an expert in my choice of underwear?" She mocked arrogantly. "This from the guy who got me a pair of pink grandma undies."

"That was just to piss you off."

"Congratulations. It worked." She cut him off. "Still doesn't make you an-"

He abruptly pinned her with steely eyes; his voice even and dead certain as he replied in one breath:

"Thongs or boxer slips, cotton. Black, white and red."

"Huh?" Amy muttered, momentarily thrown not only by the intensity and conviction with which he said it, but mostly because... he was right!

"You're choice of underwear." He clarified with bold confidence.

Amy's jaw dropped and it was only after a few seconds that she was able to stammer:

"H-How…? Hold on! Did you…?" Her eyes grew large at the realization: "You went through my underwear drawer?"

'_Oops.'_

"When?!" She cried out.

He answered honestly and with as much nonchalance as he could muster:

"Last year, when I stayed at your place after my run in with queen bitch from hell."

"You went through my underwear drawer?!" She repeated flabbergasted.

If he felt any hint of remorse over this absurd invasion of privacy, he didn't show it.

"Un-be-lievable." She gawked up at him.

"I am, aren't I?" He seized the opportunity to display his pearly whites.

"My underwear?! Really? What the hell kind of person does that?"

"A bored one." He shrugged and picked up another bag. "Let's see what else boy wonder got you."

Amy was too busy processing the new bit of information to do anything to stop him. By the time she'd returned to reality he'd already inspected every single container.

"It's official. Texas doesn't know squat about you." Dean announced assertively.

"I'm sure I'm going to regret asking this but… what the hell!" She raised her arms in defeat; she'd given up on trying to make sense of this absurd situation. "Why?"

"Skirts and dresses; not one pair of jeans. Oh, and you're gonna love his choice of shoes. Apparently, according to half-a-brain… women only get to wear heels." He finished with an aggravating smirk.

"Let me guess… You ransacked my wardrobe too?"

"Nope. Just know you hate heels and skirts."

"I wear skirts!" She exclaimed readily.

Dean tilted his head sideways, unconvinced.

"Carrington, the only time I saw you wearing a skirt it was pleated and part of your school uniform. And even _Sam_ knows you hated the thing." He countered.

"That was back then. I did grow up, you know?"

"You tellin' me you wear skirts now?" He questioned with obvious skepticism.

"As a matter of fact, I do." It was yet another cowardly lie, but she wasn't about to let him get the best of her.

How egotistical could a guy be? To presume that he knew what she liked or disliked… Ha!

"No you don't." He shook his head at her condescendingly.

"I do to." She insisted, chin jutting out defiantly.

He matched her glare and leaned down to utter categorically:

"No. You _don't_."

"What the hell do you know about it?"

His tone was low and even, as he responded without blinking:

"I know _you_, Carrington."

Under his intense stare Amy felt the urge to shrink away from him, but she planted her feet firmly on the floor and steadied her buckling knees as she rebutted up at him:

"Winchester… you don't know _anything_ about me."

Dean tried not to focus on just how close their faces were; a measly layer of static-packed air was the only thing separating them.

"Sweetheart…" He started, unwittingly dropping his stare to her lips for a fraction of a second: "I _really_ wish I didn't…" He looked up again to finish with: "…but I do."

Her stomach flip-flopped and a crushing moment of silence tick-tocked by. When Amy spoke again, she opted for a different approach - ridicule. It gave her the perfect excuse to put some much needed space between them and, at the same time, get some leverage in the argument:

"I knew you were bigheaded, but this brings your ball game to a _whole_ new level." She began disdainfully.

For a less cunning person it would appear she was simply ambling around the cramped room. In reality, she was skillfully putting the bed between herself and Dean. But the hunter was too savvy to let her get away with it.

Her breath hitched when she turned on her heels to face him and he was standing about a half a foot away from her. His current position afforded her little space for maneuvering, she was framed by the mattress on her right and by the giant closet on her left; her cage was completed by the wall behind her.

'_Great! Juuust great!'_

Her pulse continued the bumpy beat, but nevertheless she managed to keep her voice steady:

"You come into _my_ room, _uninvited_ I might add, and presume to tell _me_ you know me?" She threw a contemptuous laugh into the mix. "You are one arrogant-"

Dean took one stride and was in her face:

"You're favorite day of the week is Friday and you hate Sundays."

"So?" She dismissed his point. "Everyone feels that way!"

"No, honey, it's just you. You and all the neurotic control-freaks out there that are too busy thinking about what's gonna come next to actually live in the now."

Her eyes bugged in outrage:

"I am not a control-freak! I just try to-"

"Anticipate every single thing that's gonna happen? Yeah, they got a word for people like that… control-freaks!"

"That's two words, Einstein!"

"And you nitpick."

"Nitpick?! So I'm not supposed to correct someone when they're wrong?" She demanded.

"You could let one slide by every once in a while." He slit his eyes at her and Amy instinctively mimicked his expression.

She was about to say something, but he interrupted her:

"You hate mixing sweet and salty things and you're probably the only person on the planet that doesn't like peanut butter and jelly, but for some _insane_ reason you go cuckoo over Hawaiian style pizza. And you always overeat and then spend the next hour complaining about being full. You like cats more than dogs, but you never had one 'cause you're allergic to them. You _always_ have an opinion on _everything_ no matter how small the issue. You go psycho when someone tries to tell you what to do or what to think and you don't handle criticism well. You get overly excited about the most ridiculous things, stuff that no one else cares about. How am I doin' so far?"

She didn't get a chance to get a word in and even if he had allowed her one, she was pretty sure that all that would come out of her would be gibberish.

"You bite your nails." He proceeded and Amy remained frozen in place when his index finger came up to twirl around a random auburn lock: "You use your hair to hide your face when you're embarrassed and you either fidget with it or rub your nose when you're nervous. You nibble on your lower lip when you feel guilty. You make the most adorable moaning noises when you sleep. You absolutely _hate_ feeling vulnerable and you're scared stiff of getting hurt. And that's why, even though you're a romantic, you never show it. You think it makes you weak and it leaves you out in the open." He paused and arching an eyebrow inquired: "You want me to go on? 'Cause I haven't even warmed up yet, sweetheart."

By now Amy's throat was stretched so tight that she had to make a conscious effort just to inhale; speaking was no longer on the table.

When she didn't respond, Dean took it as a sign that she wasn't quite convinced yet. Taking a deep breath he resumed:

"You're a biter and screamer in the sack. You like it when-"

"Ok, ok! I get it, alright!" She yelled out at the dangerous topic shift and had to break eye contact under the overwhelming pressure.

Amy hauled the air into her starving lungs, completely rattled. Her brain was going a mile a minute; a suffocating terror constricted her chest and it felt like the floor had been scooped out from under her bare feet.

As the adrenaline rush subsided in him, Dean took in her shivering form. In his excitement, he'd let his mouth run amuck and, in the end, had left her utterly exposed and defenseless. Seeing her shriveled up like that, head hunched down, arms wrapped around herself for a comforting hug, Dean felt the urge to smack himself. What a douche!

'_Class act, genius! Class. Act.'_ He scolded himself.

'_Oh, God. I'm sorry… I didn't mean…'_

"Amy, I'm…"

"Get out!" She gritted without looking up. "I think you've had your fun for one night. Just…"

"Amy…"

His heart sank further when he tried to reach for her and she jerked away from his touch. Her eyes snapped up at him, bloodshot and glassy:

"Get. Out."

Author's Note:

I'm not sure if the hiatus is completely over because right now the new season of Supernatural is really ticking me off. What the hell is wrong with them splitting Dean and Sam up like that! And what's with the whole Castiel thing! I actually liked the character before, but this whole thing with Dean , it's so forced and though Misha is great.. it's just not the same chemistry. More fun with Castiel than he's had with Sam for year. WTF?

Sorry, venting!

Anyway, this could turn two ways, either I get really turned off and my muse just packs up and leaves, or I'll get frustrated enough to try and rewrite the whole new season and just ignore it. Don't know yet.

In the meantime you got a pretty long chapter and I'll try to work on the next one. ;)


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

Ellen dropped the plates in front of Dean and Sam and commanded:

"Dig in."

The two brothers exchanged frowning looks before turning their perplexed stares to the bar owner. Under the baffled scrutiny Ellen quipped gruffly:

"What?"

Dean pointedly dropped his eyes to the large sandwiches before looking up again.

Making them breakfast wasn't exactly her thing. Her morning routine generally consisted of her giving them a hard time about using coasters. Dean had asked for a snack once and her prompt response had been something along the lines of _"What am I? A B&B? You got opposable thumbs, make your own chow."_ After that, the boys knew better, so every day they shuffled their way into the kitchen to whip up something.

"What?" She repeated snippily. "It's just breakfast." Ellen tried hard to sound flippant about her bizarre offer.

"Exactly." The two men replied in unison, still thrown by the unexpected act of kindness.

"The bread was getting moldy." She scuffed dismissively.

It was a pitiable, pathetic attempt at an excuse; she knew it, the boys knew it. Feeling cornered, Ellen awkwardly whirled around and threw over her shoulder a curt: "Just eat."

"What's up with her?" Dean questioned, raising his jaw in Ellen's direction.

She was currently busying herself by wiping down the pristine clean counter.

"Beats me." Sam shrugged.

From a distance, Ellen watched as the two boys picked up their respective sandwiches and bit into them. A sense of peace washed over her at the sight of Dean finally eating.

It wasn't as if she knew him all that well. But she knew him well enough to recognize that there was something off the moment he'd stepped into the Roadhouse with Amy in tow.

He'd been acting strange for the last two months. Ellen had attributed this to their present situation. The impending Apocalypse was bound to get anyone a little rattled. Factor in the major roles the two brothers had played in that turn of events and the bizarre behavior was more than adequate. So she had accepted the dark circles under his eyes, evidence of his lack of sleep, the out of the blue errands that took days to run, the borderline obsessive maintenance of the Impala and even, though it was completely out of character, the skipping of meals. But the oddity in his demeanor had definitely escalated over the last couple of weeks, reaching a peek the previous night. Ellen had seen the two in the same room for all of thirty seconds and it was enough to figure out that Amy was a major contributing factor for the change in Dean.

She didn't even have to resort to the observational skills she'd acquired over the years as a hunter's wife to pick up on the tension between the two; it bounced off of the couple and took up every inch of the bar. Her immediate instinct was to split them up and try to suss out what was going on.

After escorting Amy to her bedroom, Ellen had come back downstairs to find Dean practically staring a hole into poor Garrett.

She'd gotten the gist of what had happened between Dean and Amy the year before from Bobby. He'd filled her in on the highlights of that debacle, but no details. Concerned and knowing full well she wasn't going to get a peep out of the older Winchester, Ellen had probed the younger one. About halfway into the evening she'd cornered him in the kitchen but, after much stammering and stare dodging, Sam had evaded giving her a straight answer.

Ellen had been left with nothing more than speculation and conjectures and it was killing her. When she caught Dean in the upstairs hall, slouching his way out of Amy's bedroom, the look on his face almost broke her heart and kicked her into full mother goose mode. Unable to do or say anything to help him, she decided to do the next best thing - feed him.

For the untrained eye it might have appeared that Ellen was completely engrossed in her cleaning, but the true object of her attention was sitting at a table a few feet away.

The creaking sound drew Ellen's gaze to the stairs - a drowsy Amy was hesitantly dragging her feet down the steps. The female hunter sensed the immediate transformation in Dean; his neck straightened, his shoulder blades shifted and his back went stiff as a board. It was fleeting, but Ellen didn't miss the awestruck look on his face before his expression went blank.

Amy shambled quietly into the room, using her hair as a shield while she mumbled out:

"Morning."

"Mornin'." Ellen and Sam replied.

Dean's greeting was inaudible and coupled with an unreadable nod.

After a moment of hesitation, Amy seemed to choose Ellen as a safe haven and hurriedly made her way over to the counter, fiddling with her disheveled locks all the way over.

"Can I get you something to eat, honey?" Ellen asked, dissecting the young doctor's jittery mannerisms.

"No, thanks. I'm good." Amy forced out a quick half smile.

"You gotta eat something. You didn't have dinner last night." Ellen insisted.

One look at the bar owner and Amy was sure the woman wasn't going to let up until she'd gotten some semblance of food into her. Reluctantly, she indulged Ellen and gave her a shy, consenting nod.

"I'll be right back."

Amy quickly regretted her decision when she noted that her actions ultimately left her alone in the room with the two Winchester. She tried to see the upside - at least Sam was there too.

"How'd you sleep?" The goal behind Sam's question was mainly to keep the suffocating silence from settling between the three.

"Ok." Amy lied.

That was it? That was all she had to offer? She had to chip in if he was going to stop that crushing tension from high jacking all the air out of the room.

'_Come on! Give me something to work with. The Incredible Sulk over here sure ain't gonna give me squat.'_ Sam mentally begged her.

"Good." He mumbled awkwardly when she remained quiet.

Desperate, Sam chanced a glance at Dean. He was busy playing with his cell phone.

'_Great! Perfect!'_

Amy's uneasy fingernails tapping on the counter only made things worse and both she and Sam let out a sigh of relief when a happy go lucky Garrett jogged down the staircase.

"Mornin', guys." He chirped.

Coming to lean on the counter next to Amy, he added:

"Good mornin'."

"Hey, Garrett." She replied, curling her hair behind her ear.

She kept her attention on the counter in order to avoid his mesmerized gaping, but he thwarted her evasive maneuvers by bowing his head to glimpse up at her.

"Did you like them?"

"Huh?" She didn't have a choice but to meet his gaze.

"The clothes." He explained with an eager glint.

"Oh, yeah… right…" Amy prattled clumsily, hoping that her true feelings about his choices didn't filter into her tone. "Of course… thanks. You-you didn't have to go through all that trouble."

"No trouble." Garrett gave her a sugary smile. "Glad I could help. After Sam told me what happened, I figured you'd be needing somethin' to wear."

"Yeah… thanks." She trailed off ineptly.

Amy had spent the last hour digging through the contents of the bags and stacking the clothes into three separate piles - _'no way in hell'_, _'maybe when pigs fly'_ and _'viable'_. The first time around, she basically ended with just one giant heap of _'no way in hell'_s. It took her three more tries before she got five measly items into the _'maybe when pigs fly'_ pile. From those few she eventually picked out the dark blue, cotton rib sweater dress she now wore.

The choice of footwear thankfully was much simpler. After fishing out two pairs of flashy 10-inch pumps and one pair of needle heel sandals she's begun to despair. But the contest was closed and she'd found a winner once the brown, knee-high suede boots emerged. They still sported a heel, but at least it was a thick and relatively stable one.

"It looks good on you." Garrett's comment brought Amy out of her reverie.

"Thanks." She replied, trying hard to keep still.

It was 80 degrees outside and she was wearing boots and a cotton dress; one with a mock neck no less. Amy was boiling up in that thing. Though she would never admit it, the muumuu Dean had gotten her a year before was becoming more and more appealing with every passing second.

But what other choice did she have? The alternatives consisted of practically hip-high hemlines and plunging v-necks. The little voice inside her head pointed out that at least two of the other dresses had a pretty decent length and weren't all that plunging. Why hadn't she picked those?

'_Cause of the rings, isn't it? The necklines won't hide the damn trinkets. Why don't you just take them off, for Christ sake?'_

'_Shut up.'_

'_You're sweating like a fat man chasing an ice-cream truck. Just go back, get rid of the rings and put something else on!'_

'_Shut up! I'm not taking them off!'_

'_Why not?!'_

'_Just shut up!'_

"Here you go, honey."

Amy snapped back to reality to find a plate in front of her and a frowning Ellen from behind the counter.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, I-I'm fine."

'_Shit.' _Amy cursed inwardly when she realized her fingers were inadvertently fidgeting with the twin loops concealed under the thick layer of cotton. She immediately dropped her hand.

"Today's gonna be a scorcher. You sure you wanna wear that?"

"Yeah! I'm fine." Amy responded hastily, but Ellen's gaze lingered on her.

"Damn it!"

Dean's outburst cut the conversation short just in the nick of time. The remaining four people in the bar turned towards the hunter.

"He's not picking up."

"Who? Dudley?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. Why isn't he pickin' up?" Dean growled, staring at the small screen on his phone.

"Cause he's drivin'?"

Dean looked up at the odd suggestion. Sam was staring off into the distance.

"Why do you think he's drivin'?"

Meeting Dean's furrowed brow, Sam tilted his head towards the window:

"Maybe 'cause he just parked outside, next to the Impala?"

While Sam got up and walked away, Dean whirled around to spot four men getting out of a black 66 Pontiac GTO. Squinting, he recognized both Dudley and Luke trudging their way up the front porch. They didn't look happy.

Sam opened the door and the four men entered the bar.

"Hey, Dudley, didn't know you were comin' over." The smile on the younger Winchester withered when the aged hunter simply trudged past him without so much as a fleeting glance.

Wary, Sam watched the three other men parade in front of him, with the same disdainful attitude. He could have sworn the last one actually gave him a dirty look.

After exchanging silent nods with Luke, Amy's eyes followed Dean as he stood up and with grave footsteps closed the distance between himself and Dudley.

"What's up?" His tone was low and tense, his shoulders squared.

Dudley remained silent.

"Did you get anythin'?" Dean tried again.

"Oh, I got somethin', alright." Dudley's snigger sent a chill down Amy's spine.

She slid off the stool but kept her green iris on the meeting duo.

"The attacks on the hunters…?" Dudley trailed off and Dean was forced to coax him.

"Yeah?"

"Nothin' supernatural 'bout them."

Dean slanted his head sideways and raised an intrigued eyebrow.

"What do you _mean_ nothin' supernatural?"

Dudley held Dean's gaze for an aggravating extra second.

"We tracked down the guys that jumped your lady doc…"

The less than friendly attitude and all the secrecy had been ticking him off from the get go, but when Dudley threw a creepy leer Amy's way, Dean stepped into his line of sight and growled:

"Quit dancin' 'round and spit it out."

The temperature in the bar dropped a couple of degrees at the underlining threat in his words, prompting Dudley to quickly return his attention back to Dean.

"Turns out they're part of a militia."

"Militia?" Sam drew closer, but Dudley continued to take no notice of him.

"A bunch of bible toting civvies decided to join the war and according to them…" He paused. "…_we're _the bad guys."

A unanimous '_huh_?' reverberated throughout the room.

"Why would they think we're the bad guys?" Garrett joined in on the conversation.

"Why indeed?" As he said it, Dudley zeroed in on Sam. "Why do you think they'd come up with such an absurd idea?"

Every fiber in Dean's body screamed at him to do something when Dudley began his predatory stroll towards Sam. Suddenly, the way the newly arrived hunters were spread about the room didn't seem random at all, but rather strategic. One hovered near Amy and Garrett, while another had somehow sneaked closer to the counter where Ellen stood. Out of the corner of his eyes, Dean caught Luke positioned just a few feet away and ready to pounce.

Shit! It was an ambush!

By the time the realization hit him it was too late. Four guns were simultaneously drawn and Dean's eyes widened in shock at the sight of Sam pinned against the wall with Dudley's barrel locked under his jaw.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22 **

Sam's back connected with the wall, prompting an immediate and visceral reaction from Dean. He sprang forward but halted, mid stride, at the cold chill of metal pressing against his temple.

"Hands where I can see 'hem." He heard Luke command.

Taking a soothing breath, Dean gritted low and as calmly as he could muster:

"_Dudley_?"

"How long did you think you could pull this off?" The hunter sneered, gaze fixed on Sam.

It took all of Dean's restraint to keep from pouncing on Dudley as the muzzle was thrust harder under Sam's chin.

"Whoa! What the hell's going on here?!"

Garrett's yelp drew Dean's attention. One of Dudley's boys held both Texas and Amy at gunpoint. Unfortunately, the moron seemed to prefer _her_ as a target; the overwhelming combination of raw anger and panic already making Dean's blood curl doubled.

Inhaling sharply through his nose, making his nostrils flare in the process, he returned his stare to Sam:

"What the _hell_ are you talkin' about?"

"I know what happened!"

Sam and Dean's eyes widened in simultaneous shock.

"I always knew there was something wrong with you, boy…"

Sam's jaw muscles twitched at the disgusted tone directed at him.

"… but hookin' up with a demon? Drinkin' demon blood?"

Dean shut his lids tightly against the sudden unsolicited but instinctive pang of revulsion at the memories brought on by Dudley's rant.

"I did-"

Dudley shoved Sam against the wall again and Dean jerked, causing the other three men to reinforce their position of power over the Roadhouse patrons. Ellen's body stiffened as the barrel formally pointed at her chest now targeted her head. Amy and Garrett's watchdog also marked his territory by stepping forward.

"You better get that gun out of her face, buddy!" Garrett's growled defensively.

"Shut up, pimple face." The attacker retorted disdainfully.

Dean's heart pounded violently against the constricting confines of his chest, his eyes hectically alternating between Amy and Sam, before settling on the latter.

"You make me sick." Dudley continued his fuming. "You let _him_ loose and now hunters are dying."

The gears in Dean's frantic mind turned, as he tried to figure out a way to dismantle the hazardous situation.

"Look, let's just-" His attempt to smooth the tension was thwarted when Dudley pinned him with an accusing glare.

"And _you_! He kick started the Apocalypse and you're gonna let him get away with it?!" Dudley spat, revulsion printed on every word. "Your father-"

"You leave _him_ out of this." Dean sobered up quickly at the mention of his deceased parent.

"If he was here he would've done what needs to be done."

"I'm warnin' you. Put the gun down and just walk away." Dean teethed, clinging to the last threads of self-control.

"He's a monster, and he has to be put down like one."

In terror Dean watched Dudley's finger twitch on the trigger. He was ready to hurl himself at the attacker, regardless of the threat posed by Luke's gun. Maybe he could out run the bullet, maybe he'd miss. You never know, stranger things had happened in the heat of battle. All these fragmented thoughts raced around in his adrenaline drenched brain, but before he had a chance to move, Luke's ominous shout echoed in the silent tension:

"Dudley!"

The older hunter stopped and looked at his partner.

"What are you doin'?" Considering the situation, Luke's tone was oddly calm.

"Cleaning up the mess." Dudley snarled, focusing once more on Sam; the hatred made his voice gravelly.

Amy swallowed against a dry throat as Luke's gun gradually shifted from Dean to Dudley.

"I can't let you do that."

Everyone was shocked, but none more than Dudley:

"What?!"

"We are not killers. You can't do this."

"Are you questioning me?" Dudley roared.

"Sloan, let's just go." Luke tried to reason.

"No!"

With a sideways glance, Amy noted that the standoff had drawn the attention of her assailant. He stood a few feet away, outstretched arm, still aiming the pistol at her temple, but his gaze was fixed on Dudley. She visualized seizing the weapon and, before she knew it, her body was acting out the half-hazardously mapped out strategy. It all happened in less than a heartbeat. Amy lunged forward and the hunter jerked instinctively. Suddenly, the metallic handle she had been reaching for was rushing toward her and bashed into the side of her skull. Doubled over and through the razor-sharp ringing in her ears, she could hear someone shouting her name. She was too busy fighting the dark hues looming in the corners of her eyes to dodge the knee that came up to bury itself into her gut or the fist that smashed across her face. The force of the second blow sent her hurling backwards into one of the bar stools and a wooden seat connected with her ribcage for one last wave of agonizing pain, before she collapsed to the floor.

Amy lay there, dangling somewhere between oblivion and consciousness; stunned brain trying to piece together the scrambled clatter going on around her without the aid of her sight.

There was shouting, clashing, gasping…

Amy blinked manically through the haze, until her vision cleared. The first thing she saw was Garrett's petrified gape. She shifted in his arms and immediately regretted it. Her jaw felt open for a jagged pant as a powerful electric shock, coming from her side, ripped through her entire mangled body.

"Don't move. Just-just stay still." Garrett's voice was fractured and laced with anxiety.

But Amy was too willful to concede. Taking a deep breath she gave it one more shot. Gasping and groaning all the way through her stubbornness she was able to sit up and take in her surroundings.

The tables had turned. With the exception of Luke, it was now Dudley and his boys who were under the threat of firearms. Ellen, still behind the counter, seemed to have overpowered the two men closest to them. They were currently looking down the barrel of her shotgun. Across the room, a panting Sam leaned on the wall, while Dean pointed Dudley's own gun at him.

"You're makin' a mistake." The hunter spat between pants.

"Not the first and, considering my track record, probably not the last." Dean's growl matched the fury glittering in his eyes.

"Your dad-"

Dean was in his face, his grip on the handle, tightening as he gritted out:

"You mention my father _one_ more time, and you're not getting out of here in one piece." He searched Dudley's face, waiting for the excuse he needed to unleash his pent-up rage. Much to his disappointment, he wasn't given one, so he continued: "Now… I'm gonna say this once, and, for your sake, you better listen… You or any of your boys show up here again, you're gonna be spending the next few days pickin' a buttload of shrapnel out of your asses. You come near my brother again…? " He paused and when he spoke his voice had dropped an octave: "And you're a dead man."

The two held glares for what felt like an eternity. Eventually, Dudley was the one to forfeit the staring contest. Taking a step back, he bellowed:

"Let's go."

Under Ellen's watchful eye, the two men at the bar clumsily shambled towards the door, while Luke remained motionless, watching his buddies retreat. They stopped when they reached Dudley.

"This isn't over." He glowered up at the older Winchester.

Dean's eyebrows shot up as he agreed:

"You're right."

He turned towards the man who had attacked Amy and asked in a cool and collected tone:

"What's your name?"

"Parker."

Dean seemed to ponder something for an instant, nodding slightly. Then, without warning, his left fist came flying out and smashed into Parker's face. The young man let out a yelp and reeled back. Unfazed, Dean waited for him to recover. When he did, the Winchester spoke:

"Parker, you _ever._ Touch her again. I will hunt you down. And kill you. Got it?"

Parker gawked at him. He jolted when suddenly Dean roared:

"Got it?!"

Parker was nodding like an idiot and this seemed to satisfy Dean. Resuming his unruffled composure he looked at Dudley:

"Now we're done."

Amy watched from the ground as all three reluctantly and silently abandoned the premises. Once they were gone, Dean turned to Sam:

"You ok?"

"Yeah." Sam replied, rubbing his chin.

In the meantime, ineptly and with the aid of a panicky Garrett, Amy staggered to her feet. Much to her surprise she achieved this without showing any outward signs of distress, despite the pain digging into her side and the throbbing in her bashed head.

Once the task was complete she looked up and her gaze locked with Dean's. She was unable to read his expression. His jaw was clenched, accentuating his sharp cheekbones, but his eyes were blank and indecipherable. There was a pang in her chest when he broke contact without a word.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

Gulping down the suffocating knot in her throat, Amy looked up at Garrett, who was still trying to help. She quickly scrambled away from his grasp and stood up straight, ignoring the sting in her ribcage.

"I can do it."

And with that she disappeared up the stairs.

Garrett's puppy dog eyes trailed after her. He was the only one blissfully unaware of the strained exchange that had transpired between her and Dean.

"Maybe I should…" He scanned the room for support in his decision, but even Luke was shaking his head.

"Just let her go." Ellen voiced out the general opinion.

Without one last glance up the staircase, Garret reluctantly shuffled over to join the group at the counter.

"Thanks for the help." Dean raised his chin up at Luke who nodded back.

"He left me no choice."

With obvious discomfort, Sam took a seat next to his brother, unable to meet anyone's gaze.

The tension between all occupants grew in the stretching silence, to the point that even Garrett took notice. After about two minutes of this, he decided it was time for someone to ask the question:

"So… Anyone care to explain what the hell just happened?"

Nothing. You could hear the proverbial pin drop.

"Well…" Garrett fixed his poignant gaze on Sam. "Is it true? Did you have something to do with all this?"

Torment marred his features and Sam swallowed hard before muttering:

"Yes."

Garrett's eyes shot wide open.

"What the fuc-"

"Lilith was the last seal." Dean gruffly interrupted, teeth gnashing as he summarized curtly: "When he killed her the seal was broken and Lucifer walked. We didn't know. End of story."

"And that's it? He jump started the Apocalypse and we're supposed to pretend it's all fine and dandy?" Garrett objected.

"Are we gonna have a problem here?" Dean snapped with a threatening glare. "'Cause if you hurry, I'm sure you can still catch up with Dudley."

Garrett examined the other faces around the counter. All appeared to be waiting for a decision. Finally, the young Texan slipped off the stool and announced:

"I'm gonna check on Amy."

"You do that." Dean gritted, suppressing the urge to smack the retreating kid over the back of the head.

"Dean… he's right to feel…"

"Sammy, you gotta snap out of this guilt trip you're on." Dean said, frustrated and tired. "It's not helpin' and it's not gonna get you anywhere, 'kay? You screwed up big time, but you didn't know. Now let's focus on cleaning up this mess."

'_My mess.'_ Sam couldn't help adding in his thoughts.

"Where's Bobby?" Dean started, his mind already sketching out a plan to deal with the unexpected turn of events.

"Went into town to stock up on amo." Ellen supplied, wiping down the counter to keep her fretful hands busy; the recurring idea of her daughter out there with other hunters plaguing her every thought.

"Call 'im." Dean ordered, before getting up and trudging up the stairs.

"And where's he goin'?" Luke wondered.

Ellen and Sam shred a simultaneous eye-roll.

"Where do you think?" The bar owner sighed.

* * *

Taking off that damn sweater dress was probably one of the most excruciating and exhausting things Amy ever had to do. For almost five minutes, she'd wormed around, twisting and pulling at the fabric; her range of movement severely limited by the raw sting in her torso. When she was finally done, she discarded the item onto her bed and dropped her eyes to inspect her wound. Already, she could see the outlining of an angry purplish bruise over the contour of her lower ribs.

With a sigh, she slipped on the robe Ellen had lent her and carefully sat down on the mattress. A knock coming from her bedroom door made her groan.

"Amy…?"

Predictably, it was Garrett.

"Yeah?" She exhaled frustrated.

She just wanted to be left alone, so she could berate herself on the monumentally retarded move she'd pulled. Trying to grab a gun from a trained hunter? What was she thinking?

"Can I come in?"

"Garrett… I just wanna to rest… just for a little bit, ok?"

"You sure I can't get you anythin'? Someone should really take a look at…"

"I'm fine! Just…" Another sigh and a deep intake of breath. "I just need to rest, that's all."

"Ok, but if you need anythin'…"

She didn't respond and stillness returned to the small room.

* * *

Garrett's doe eyes lingered on the door. Something told him he really should be worrying about what had just been disclosed to him a few minutes ago, downstairs. But for some insane reason Amy's safety took precedence over the newly acquired knowledge that Sam Winchester had broken the last seal, and with it unleashed the Apocalypse.

Begrudgingly, Garrett shuffled his way down the hall. His stride slowed down when he saw Dean emerging from the staircase.

Taking into account the way the older hunter's boots were gobbling up the floor, airhead as he might be, it was clear to Garrett where Dean was heading.

"She doesn't want to see anyone." He piped up.

Dean never stopped.

"I don't care." He growled, brushing past Garret and making a straight line for Amy's door.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

**AN:**

Ok guys, this is a reallu big on, but I just didn't have the heart to chop it up. So you get a pretty long one this time.

And since I'm writing a AN I'd just like use the opportunity to thank you all for all the great review. I love them all. But I have to give a special thanks to winchesterxgirl, peculiarxemma and PyroQueenOfFire. You guys really take the time to say what you think about the story and where it's going and I really appreciate that! Thank so much!

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He didn't knock, he didn't hesitate; Dean Winchester just marched straight into Amy Carrington's bedroom, uninvited.

The lock clicked and she groaned. All she wanted was to be left alone and take a shower.

"Garrett, I told you, I…" She halted mid turn, her complain dying in her throat.

By the time her brain had registered the fact that he was in her room, Dean had erased the short distance between them. Amy awkwardly staggered back a couple of steps; his angered face suddenly inches from hers.

"Oh, it's you…" Her attempt at casual was pathetic. She took a deep breath and cunningly tried to put some space between them, as she threw offhandedly: "You don't need to check up on me. Everything's fine."

"It's _not_ fine!" Dean barked, grabbing a hold of her arm.

With a sharp tug, he spun her around. Amy's cry ripped through the room as her wounded chest crashed into his. Dean's eyes widened in panic at the sight of her doubling over, clinging to her ribcage.

"Oh, God… I-I'm sorry-I-I…" His hands hovered clumsily around her form, hesitating.

"Jesus, Winchester! What the-?" She stopped short of swearing.

"Here, si-sit down." He stammered, cautiously directing her to the nearby table.

She sat on the flat surface, gnashing garbled curses.

"Easy…" He coaxed.

When she looked up, his guilty gaze was frantically scanning her expression. The front of apathy he'd tried so hard to put up shattered and Amy gulped dryly at the raw anxiety irradiating from every twitching muscle.

"I-I'm ok." She panted, straightening up.

Seeing the bruise on her temple felt like a blow to the gut. His fingers brushed her hair, exposing the gash over her temple and it fuelled his resolve once again.

"Lemme see." He demanded coldly.

"You just saw it!" She pointed out. "I told you it wasn't that bad, but you didn't-"

"Not your face." His voice dropped an octave.

She decided to play dumb:

"Huh?"

He tilted his chin, signaling her injured torso and Amy choked, bug-eyed:

"Come again?"

"I got a lot of fascinating qualities, but x-ray vision is not one of them. Now, strip." He ordered.

"I'm in my undies here!" She protested appalled.

"Not like I haven't seen you in your birthday suit before." He shrugged nonchalantly.

"No way!" She exclaimed with a scowl.

"Carrington, you got two choices: either you take that damn thing off… or I'm ripping it off you. Pick one!"

"You wouldn't dare."

"Try me, sweetheart." He challenged, leaning down over her.

Cornered between Dean and the table she sat on, Amy resentfully tugged at the strings until they came undone. She was too busy figuring a way to hide as much skin as possible to notice Dean's Adam's apple bob in anticipation. With her fingers hectically bunching up the fabric high on her chest, struggling to keep the robe closed over her bra-clad breasts, she used her free hand to pull the material slightly to the side. It tented, affording him a tiny window to inspect her ribcage.

Amy held her breath and her eyes bounced nervously off the walls while his scrutinizing gaze trailed over the curve of her belly. When he reached for her, she jerked back and hastily closed the robe.

"No touching!" She scolded.

"How am I gonna check for cracked ribs if I can't touch you?"

"Nice try. Doctor, remember? I already checked. It's fine." She retorted snootily, but all haughtiness drained out of her once she met his glower.

"Carrington…"

"No…" She insisted with less conviction.

They held stares until ultimately she gave up and opened the robe. Her nails dug into the fabric over her chest while he bent forward and his hand disappeared inside her garment.

He seemed to be focused on her wound, so she allowed her heavy lids to flutter closed when his fingers glided lightly over her flesh. She jolted and her heart pounded an erratic succession of extra beats.

"Does it hurt?"

Her eyes snapped open.

Oh, thank God he was still looking at her wound.

"What do you think, Einstein?" She jeered.

He flattened his palm over her skin, eliciting a moan from her.

"Sorry." He looked up.

Amy gulped.

God, his eyes were _so_ green!

"Will you just hurry up?!" She feigned exasperation, eager to dispel the instant tension created by their locked stares.

Mercifully, it worked, and he returned to the task at hand.

"Don't rush me."

His survey of her injury dragged on. She didn't know how much longer she could go without taking a breath, but she didn't dare inhale, not with him this close to her. If she did, his scent would weasel its way into her already intoxicated brain and…

'_Don't think about that!'_ She reprimanded herself.

The second he pulled away, Amy wrapped the robe tightly around herself.

"I don't think it's cracked."

"Told you." She pouted.

"You should put some ice on it, though."

"I'll take it under advisement, _doc_." She mocked and then added: "We done here?"

"No."

Amy rolled her eyes.

The sight of her injured temple triggered the fresh image of her flying across the bar and what little control Dean had managed to cling to, quickly faded.

"What the hell was that back there?"

Broad-shouldered, towering over her, he made her feel puny and at the same time sent the tickly sensation in her stomach into overdrive.

"Uh?"

Where had that come from?

"What's wrong with you?!" He demanded out of the blue.

"I-" Amy gawked up at him.

She'd expected him to rip her a new one for what she'd done, but he was fuming.

"Trying to take a gun from a trained hunter?! Tell me, what exactly were you planning on doin' with it? Huh?! Knock 'im over the head with it?" It started off cynical but halfway through his chastising, hints of fear seeped into his tone. "You don't even know how to fire a freakin' gun, Amy!" He was barely able to get the last sentence out; his voice cracking when he said her name.

"I saw that he was looking… I-I wasn't thinking…" She stammered ineptly.

"You never _do_!" He yelled. "You just do whatever pops into your head and to hell with everythin' else! What if Ellen hadn't stepped in? He was going to shoot you, Carrington!"

She swallowed dryly at the revelation.

"What?"

"You were down…" The memory hit him and he choked. "…and he-he pointed the gun at you… b-but Ellen…" He ran the back of his shaky hand over his damp forehead, frustrated by his inability to get the words out. After a couple of seconds he muttered: "Damn it, Carrington… I can't… You can't keep doin' this."

"Doin' what?"

"You can't keep putting yourself on the line, like that. One day… I'm not gonna be there to bail you out…"

An uncontrollable and highly inappropriate giddiness took over her at the unexpected display of concern. Amy didn't quite know how to deal with the new development. As a result, what came out of her, unfortunately, was a pitiable attempt to lighten the mood:

"Apparently… Ellen will step in then."

Dean shook his head and mercifully stepped back, providing Amy with enough room so she could even out her breathing.

"Why does everything have to be so God damn hard with you…?" It was a rhetorical question.

"I could say the same about you." She replied promptly.

"You're such a pain in the ass."

"Yeah, and you're such a joy to be around." She scoffed, amazed at how calm she sounded considering the pandemonium that was going on in her stomach.

She managed to stop herself from recoiling, when he suddenly stomped up to her again, coming even nearer this time.

Damn! She should've gotten off that table when she had a chance! Now she was cornered again.

"You listen to me! From now on, you're gonna do _exactly_ what I say, when I say it! Got it? And I don't wanna hear a peep from you!"

"You better get that finger out of my face, Winchester." She warned proudly.

"Got it?!" He repeated more forcefully.

She made a move to slap his pointing hand away and he seized her wrist. Amy tried to wiggle herself free of his grasp; his fingers dug into her flesh and she cringed.

"It's my _job_ to keep you safe."

Job? She was a job? The nerve!

"Who the hell died and made you my savior?" She questioned arrogantly.

"You're my responsibility."

"What?! Why?!" She shouted back in his face.

"You don't get it." Dean was barely holding it together. Amy was at a loss.

"What?! What don't I get?"

"I broke the first seal! Alright?! I'm the one who started the whole thing." He finally snapped, letting go of her.

Amy stared for a moment and, for the first time, she picked up on the subtle hints of guilt in his expression.

On an impulse, she reached for him and he instantly withdrew from her touch.

"No…"

"Dean…"

Hearing her say his name only made things worse.

The seconds filtered by in smothering silence.

"You did what you could…"

His bloodshot eyes zeroed in on hers.

She knew? How did she…?

'_Sammy…'_ He realized.

"He told you."

She nodded, pursing her lips and he swallowed hard before asking:

"Did he tell you everything? What I did?"

Another consoling nod.

He searched for signs of disgust, condemnation, but found none. Why?

"You held on as long as you could…"

He sneered scornfully, rage bobbling to the surface as Amy continued:

"No one could've-"

"My dad did!" He cut her off gruffly. "I was down there for four months. I cracked in three. He was there for a year… A _year,_ Carrington… and they couldn't break him."

Amy's heart sank.

"It isn't your fault." She uttered softly.

"Yes it is!" He roared; Amy shuddered. "I should've… I…" He couldn't think straight; guilt and anger poisoning his mind.

Why wasn't she blaming him? After what he'd done? How could she dismiss it?

Since he'd come back, he'd carried this weight on his shoulders; this suffocating shame. Though he knew there was none, a part of Dean longed for some kind of redemption.

He didn't get it from Sam. When his little brother had found out about what had happened in the pit, he'd just sat next to him, in silence; no reproof, no dirty looks, not even a slap on the wrist. Just… commiseration. It made Dean sick.

He didn't get it from Bobby. He didn't get it from Anna. And she was a freaking angel for Christ's sake! Even Ellen… who was always up for a good old thrashing… all she'd given him was a sympathy look.

They all forgave him. Just like that…

He would never admit it, but the only one who'd given him a shred of peace since his return had been Alistair. In the darkest corners of his mind, Dean had welcomed every punch, every blow. Maybe if he hurt enough, if he bled enough…

He'd passed out after the beating and when he'd woken up in the hospital he'd found Castiel at his bedside, telling him he was some God damn chosen one, the one who'd stop the Apocalypse… a hero.

Dean puffed sneeringly.

What the hell kind of hero tortures people? Carves… slices…

"Dean!"

Amy's voice hurled him back to reality.

She was gaping at him in anticipation, trying to read his thoughts. The look on her face wasn't one of compassion, but it wasn't one of reproach either.

She'd failed him too.

Of all the people… Not even Amy Carrington had the guts to tell him off.

"You did what you had to do to survive." She said soberly.

"Survive?" He snarled viciously and Amy's pulse quickened as he leaned into her. "Survive? Sweetheart… I slashed…" As he spoke, Dean crawled over her at a slothful, predatory pace, making her bend backwards at an odd angle, reviving the throbbing at her side. "…and I ripped them apart, everyday… for _years_…"

"Stop it…" She rasped, vulnerable and winded.

He ignored her plea and his thighs pushed her legs apart as he pressed on. He was gonna make her see what he really was.

"I lost count of how many souls… And you know what?"

The back of her head reached the wall behind her. End of the line. She was stretched to the limit; spread across the table with his heavy form looming over her. Fighting the adrenaline spike, Amy set her mouth into a stiff line and inhaled sharply through her nose, waiting for the final blow:

"I _enjoyed_ it…" His lips twisted languorously for a cruel grin, one she'd never seen before.

Staring up at his stone-cold, chiseled features, Amy's breath hitched in her throat.

"And Sammy's supposed to be the monster!? For what?!? For banging some demon-bitch? For breaking the last seal...?" He focused on her mouth for a moment, watched her hastily wet her dry lips, before returning his focus to her panicky eyes. "Tell me… if he's a monster… what does that make me…?"

She remained frozen in place, transfixed.

"What the _fuck_ does that make me, _Carrington_?!" He shouted, unexpectedly startling her into action.

She didn't know where she got the strength to match his fury, but she did.

"You're not a monster." She teethed.

He laughed disdainfully.

Though her heart was pounding manically, she managed to remain perfectly still even as his hand slithered around the small of her back.

"Are you sure 'bout that?"

She wasn't prepared for what happened next. Without warning, he circled her completely and with one effortless jerk, towed her closer until their pelvises connected. Her spine arched back; the rush of pain that came with it was blinding. She flattened one hand against the top of the table for support, the other clutched at his arm. But Amy didn't scream. She held on stubbornly, and once she was able to override her tethered senses, she defied him:

"You're _not_. A monster."

He reacted to her tenacity by tightening his hold on her. The corner of her lips twitched to stifle a cry that threatened to rip its way out of her.

The two drew harsh pants, both refusing to back down.

It must've been hurting like hell. Guilt began creeping into Dean's stomach.

"How do you know that?" He asked, bitterness flooding his voice.

"I just do." She replied rebelliously.

"That's not good enough…" He growled, feeding his rage.

He wanted to know? Fine! She'd tell him.

Amy locked her jaw, and without so much as a flinch, she flat out stated:

"Cause I wouldn't have fallen for you if you were, you _jerk_!!!"

As the bombshell dropped between them everything came to an abrupt halt.

She regretted them the moment she saw the immediate change in Dean's expression. In a heartbeat, anger gave way to awe. His eyes grew large, the deep wrinkles marring the bridge of his nose smoothed and his brow line rose faintly.

His arm slackened around her and he drew back slightly to examine her face fully. Under his intense gape, she straightened timidly; her chest rose and fell in a pointless effort, since all the air seemed to have been vacuumed out of the room. Suffocating in the silence, she felt every single second slouch by as she waited for his reaction.

There was a beat and then suddenly he was leaning in, locking a hand under her left ear and pulling her to him. Amy panicked. Her frenzied palms materialized against the front of his shirt and his mouth stopped about half an inch from hers.

"What-are-you-doing?" She blurted in a single breath.

Dean towered over her and she craned her neck to find his awestruck stare alternating frantically between her lips and her eyes.

He didn't answer. Instead, he slanted his head sideways and dove in for another try. This time she was forced to shrink back in order to dodge his advances.

"Wait-no…" She breathed heavily, trapped by the arm on her waist and the hand cupping her cheek.

He didn't relent. His callous thumb swept across her flushed skin and he pressed his whole body into hers, spreading her thighs further in the process. Her lids fluttered closed to find the strength she needed to halt him.

With their foreheads pressed together, they started a strained, dawdling battle. Their combined gasps and repressed mewls filled the air as, over and over again, Dean tried to haul her in. But on every attempt, Amy would recoil and shove at his chest.

"Stop… Dean…" She swallowed and ducked when the tip of his nose nudged hers. "No…"

He let out a frustrated groan, but didn't give up. He kept coming at her, pulling her flush against him, using his hand to guide her mouth to his, angling his face left and right, desperate to gain much needed access.

"We can-I-I can't…." She babbled ineptly, evading his advances and fueling the growing lust inside him. "I'm not doin' this…"

"Why not?" He exhaled harshly, still moving in, unrelenting.

His question pierced through her fog filled mind and Amy went completely rigid. He froze, finding himself pinned by a murderous glower.

"Why not?!?" She cried out feverishly.

He had the nerve to ask her?!

"You're kiddin'. You didn't just-" She didn't finish.

Rashly, she shoved him off and Dean staggered back, caught off guard. By the time his fuzzy vision cleared, she was all the way across the room, scrabbling with the edges of her robe to cover herself.

"You did _not_ just ask me that!" Amy angrily swatted at her hair so she could glare at him. "Why not?!?" She continued bitterly.

Dean gaped, perplexed and rattled, his body still adjusting to the sudden loss of her touch.

"A _year_, Winchester! You let me think you were dead for a whole _freakin'_ _year!"_

'_Oh! So that's what this is about… Shit…!'_

Man, was he in trouble!

'_No wait!'_

"Hold on a sec. I thought you said you knew." He furrowed his brow at her.

"I didn't!" She shouted.

She didn't care anymore. She was done playing whatever sick, twisted game she'd started. She was done!

"I found out three weeks ago when Garrett showed up at my house." She was putting herself out in the open, but she was too unhinged to be bothered with putting up the façade.

"You lied? Why?" Dean was confused, and the hormone-soaked gears in his head were too rusty to come up with an explanation.

"Cause I'm an idiot!" She offered. "That's not the point!"

Dean put his foot down on that one. If they were going to go into another one of their shouting contests, he might as well be prepared for it.

"No! I wanna know!" He demanded, crossing the room. "Why'd you lie?"

"Don't try to make this about me. I'm not the one who popped back out of hell and forgot to tell anyone about it!" She countered, jutting her chin up at him.

"What was I supposed to do? Pick up a phone and say '_Hey, I'm back. Can I swing by for a quickie?_'"

Her outraged hand came flying out of nowhere to slap him right across the cheek.

Dean locked his jaw and his nostrils flared as he loomed over her.

"You son of a bitch!" She bit out acidly.

"I told you. I'm no good." His hands fisted at his sides as he said it.

"It still doesn't make you a monster. Just makes you a guy. That's all." With that she walked around him, ready to leave him there.

"I did it to keep you safe."

At those words, she halted in her stride and whirled around.

"From what, Winchester?! My life?! 'Cause patching up hunters _is_ my life! It's what I do!"

"I couldn't have you around me. It's not safe." He uttered.

"Of course!" She puffed contemptuously. "You didn't let me know you were back because… um…let me see… oh, right! Your life is too dangerous. I could get hurt in the cross fire and then, God help you! I could die and you'd have to _bury_ me!" Her eyes poignantly zeroed in on his as she said the last words.

He could see the sting behind the fury irradiating from her green irises.

"Amy…."

She was off, shaking her head vehemently now as she teethed:

"No! This had _nothing_ to do with keeping me safe and everything to do with your inability to man up and deal with relationships!" Though winded, she still found the wrath to go on shouting, closing the distance between them as she went: "What did you think I was gonna do? Tie you down and put up a white picket fence around you, that it?! What the hell made you think I wanted a relationship with you in the first place? All you had to do… was call, say you were back," She raised her arms up. " and that was it! I wasn't going to chase after you like some psycho, love-struck bimbo!"

"That's not it!"

"Stop lying to yourself! It's pathetic."

His fingers seized her wrist and stopped her from waking away again.

"I'm not lying!" He gritted.

"Right… keep tellin' yourself that!"

"If I wanted you out of my life then why the _fuck_ did I come to get you? Huh?"

She was going to say guilt, but didn't have a chance to get the word in.

"Or how about the other eight times I drove to your house over the last year? Tell me, Carrington! Why would I sneak out and drive _five_ hundred miles in the middle of a hunt just to check up on you? I needed to see you! Make sure you were ok!"

By the end of his rant, his grip on her had slackened and she was able to jerk her wrist away.

"You did what? You checked up on me?" She narrowed her eyes threateningly up at him.

"Yes!"

Now, did she see?

"So what? You get to see me but I don't! That it?!"

Oh, shit! How come she always managed to turn his words around on him?

"You…" She didn't even know what to call him. "I can't believe you'd…"

"I had to protect you!"

"Enough! I don't wanna hear it!"

He stopped her again when she tried to escape.

"No! You're gonna listen!"

"Let me go!"

"I wanted to be… I-I…" He stammered. "Do you have any idea how many times I picked up the damn phone to call you?"

"Then why didn't you?!"

"'Cause I'm sick and tired of losing the people I love!" He yelled. "My mom, my dad… I almost lost Sammy!... I sure as hell wasn't gonna to lose you too!!!"


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

"I sure as hell wasn't gonna lose you too!!!"

Everything came to screeching halt. With his words hanging heavy in the air, the two remained perfectly still across from each other, locked, wide-eyed stares, drawing harsh breaths.

The frenzied thumping in his chest reverberated through his whole body and Dean gulped dryly, in a futile attempt to push down the newly formed lump in his throat.

He'd pretty much yelled himself into a corner; a desperate corner that left him utterly exposed to her whim.

'Idiot!'

The ball was in her court.

'Come on… don't just stand there… You're killin' me here…'

Amy didn't budge; she couldn't.

'God damn it, Amy! Say somethin'. Do somethin'!' He begged her in his thoughts.

But despite his plea, she allowed the excruciating silence to lurch by ruthlessly. She didn't even try to free her wrist out of his grasp.

His restless gaze frantically searched her face for a sign, a hint, _anything_ that might clue him in on what was going on in that busy, little head of hers.

After a torturous minute, Dean couldn't take it anymore. He _hated_ feeling vulnerable. _Hated_ it.

'You're cool… everythin's cool. Maybe she didn't pick up on it.'

'Yeah, right! She's gonna make mincemeat out of you!'

He had to dig himself out of this mess. Right now! To do so, he resorted to old, tested tricks. He relied on his classic smart-alecky smirk, his streetwise charm and, with all the swagger he could muster, he asked:

"What? No witty comeback, Carrington?"

'Classy and smooth, Dean… that's the way to go here.' He encouraged himself.

He was kidding right? After the bombshell he'd just dropped on her? She was having trouble keeping her knees from buckling and he expected her to _speak_?!

"Um… I… Um…"

Her rattled response boosted his confidence and added a cocked eyebrow into the mix:

"Well?"

"I-I… um." She stuttered, dropping her eyes to her bare feet.

'Good God, woman. Get a hold of yourself!' The proud part of her chastised.

'_Right, right! Focus! Inhale, exhale! Here we go! You can do this… You can_ do_ this!'_ Once she was done coaxing herself, Amy took a deep breath and looked up to reply with feigned poise:

"Guess I'm fresh out."

It seemed to work and gradually she regained control of her wired senses.

"That's a first." She heard him say smugly.

Amy's poignant gaze drifted to her trapped wrist and he followed her. When he returned to her face, a powerful pang hit him. Impulsively, his hand opened and hastily retreated, as if scalded.

"So… um…" He cleared his throat clumsily, discomfort settling in once again. "You got nothin'?"

"Nope." She was so anxious she popped the 'p'.

Christ, she hated people who did that! Why was she doing it?

"Nothing. Nada… Zilch… Niente!"

Shit, she was babbling! And he was frowning at her. Why was he…?

Light bulb!

"Oh! It's Italian for… um…"

"Lemme guess… Nothing?" He offered, tilting his head in a weak attempt at cockiness.

God, she looked _amazing_ when she was nervous!

"Exactly!" She exclaimed with a little too much enthusiasm.

So cute, he just wanted to…

'Dude, get a grip! How much groveling can you do in one day?'

Dean snapped himself out of his reverie and rose to his full height.

He didn't seem to know what to do with his hands, though. He ran one through his shaggy hair and dragged his palms over the front of his leather jacket, only to bring them back down again. Eventually he settled on shoving both hands into the pockets of his jeans. With drawn in shoulders, he declared ineptly:

"Guess we cleared that up."

"Yeah…" Amy uttered uncomfortably.

The two nodded like idiots for a while. Amy's heart sank as Dean started walking away. It jumped right back to her throat when he came to a halt and spun around to face her.

"So that's it?" He demanded.

She was startled by how close he was standing.

"That's all I get?" He questioned, arms spread out and a hint of annoyance.

Amy shrank under the intensity of his scrutiny.

"Huh?"

"That's all?" He insisted.

"What do you want me to say?" It came out in the form of a squeak and Amy winced inwardly.

So much for nonchalance…

"I don't know. Somethin'… _Anythin'_!"

"Um…" Amy was at a loss and blurted the first thing that sprang out of the chaos in her head. "Thank you…?"

His eyes bugged out.

'Wrong answer…'

"Thank you?!"

"Wha-?"

He took a threatening step forward and towered over her.

"Thank you?!"

His indignation sparked a defensive attitude in her:

"I'm still processing!"

"What's there to process? I tell you I-" Dean caught himself and bellowed: "You're processing?!" He paused before growling: "Jesus, you're such a _coward_, Carrington."

"I am _not_ a coward!" She shouted. "I just don't _rush_ into things."

His eyes rolled to the ceiling, in obvious frustration before returning to her.

"Why do you have to control everythin'?"

Amy sounded like a bratty four year old:

"You say that like it's a bad thing!"

"It is when you've been waitin' for somethin' for a _freakin'_ year, Carrington!"

Amy recoiled slightly at his blatant admission; Dean was beyond caring.

"For _once._ In your life. Give that pigheaded brain of yours a rest… and just do what you want to do, Amy!"

From that point on, she wasn't listening anymore. She planted her feet firmly on the ground, kept her eye on the target and started to countdown.

Three…

"Sometimes a person just has to jump head first." He went on ranting, oblivious to the decision Amy had just made.

Two…

"Quit tryin' to figure out a way to-"

"One!..."

He never saw it coming...

Without warning, she pounced. Her small, shaky hands came out of nowhere to yank him by the collar of his shirt. He staggered forward and suddenly her mouth was on his.

His brows shot up high on his forehead, but he never moved.

Even as it was happening, Dean didn't allow himself to believe it was real. Sure, the female shape snuggly pressing against him felt like hers. The warm gasps tickling his cheeks, the muffled noises… god! Even the scent… it could be her. It could be Amy…

But he'd been here many times over the last year and Dean was sure that, any minute now, one of two things would happen: either he was gonna open his eyes and find some horny, random brunette he'd picked up at a bar gaping up at him or he'd wake up drenched in a pool of sweat, in some godforsaken motel room, next to a snoring Sam. He didn't know which was worse.

Dean decided to just ignore the nagging doubt and roll with it. What could happen? Option one, he'd get laid, option two, he'd drag his sorry ass out of bed and finish the job under a cold shower.

Having made up his mind, he surrendered to the primal urge and grew bolder, circling the tiny waist in front of him and pulling the warm, willing body against his. She let out a whimper and he seized the opportunity to deepen the kiss. His tongue slipped past parted lips and Dean froze at the taste of her.

Amy groaned, trailing after him when he stopped and pulled away.

His breath hitched when his eyes opened and there she was… flustered cheeks, gorgeous, puffy red lips and alarmed, confused green irises, looking up at him.

Amy…

Shit! This was really happening! He was kissing _her! _Not random-bar-chick, not a figment of his imagination, but real, flesh and bone Amy Carrington.

"What's wrong?" She asked, acutely aware of what she'd just done.

'What's wrong with him? How about what's wrong with you? Have you lost it? Why'd you do that?'

'Shut up.'

"What is it?" Amy probed, desperately pushing back the hysterical voice shrieked in her ears.

Trapped in his arms, all she could do was stare up at his dazed expression.

"That was…" Amy paused to clear her throat. "…incredibly stupid." She laughed nervously, but Dean didn't follow suit.

He just kept gawking at her.

God, it was a mistake.

'_You bet your sweet ass it was a mistake! Now start backpedalling!_' She ordered herself.

"O-kay then! As entertaining as this whole silent staring match has been… I… Um… I-I think I'll go die of embarrassment now." She announced fretfully, breaking eye contact and weaseling away.

She halted, feeling his hold on her tighten. There was a beat and she looked up.

Amy never got a chance to utter another word, as Dean leaned in and captured her lips for another anxious kiss.

* * *

"What the hell's takin' that boy so long?" Bobby grumbled.

He'd returned from his errands and Sam had put him up to speed on things. Everyone in the Roadhouse had gathered at the bar. All, expect Dean and Amy.

"I'll go check on them." Garrett promptly offered.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Ellen cautioned, giving him a sideways glance.

"We need to figure out what we're gonna do." The Texan argued.

Truth was, since the moment he'd seen Dean disappear into Amy's room, Garrett had been itching to follow. When he'd heard the yelling coming from behind the closed door he'd lost the nerve and had slouched downstairs.

But now, the itch had returned.

"Trust me, kid. If those two are fighting up there, you don't wanna get in the middle of it." Ellen countered, sending a pointed look in Sam's direction.

The younger Winchester's expression said it all and was enough to keep Garrett fidgeting in his seat for at least a couple more minutes.

* * *

Tenacity. That was one of the things Dean both loved and hated about Amy Carrington. When she set her mind on something, there was nothing you could do, say or yell to change it, and nothing short of a head on collision with a freight train would stop her.

Right now, it seemed, her aim was to get him from where they'd been standing to the bed behind him. And this was one of those rare occasion in which Dean was more than willing to oblige her.

Between urgent kisses and bites, she shoved at him and he staggered back until he felt something bump against his calves.

The mattress wobbled and creaked under the burden of Dean's weight as he fell onto it. The strident noise reverberated louder once Amy joined him. Clinging to his shirt, she quickly straddled his thighs and proceeded with her assault on his lips.

Sitting up, his hands roamed up and down her back as he fought the urge to flip her over and trap her underneath him on the bed, push himself between her legs and... The memory of her recent injury was the only thing that kept him in check.

Amy, however, wasn't as cautious and she definitely wasn't helping.

Over and over again, she drove her hips into his, all the while pushing muffled moans into his mouth. This… was _not_ going to work; a guy had his limits! And Dean reached his when she increased the pressure of her thrusts.

With a gasp, he tore his lips away from hers, but she was on him, unrelenting. He tried pulling back again:

"Wait, wait, wait… Amy… ugh…" He panted harshly.

Deprived of his mouth, she'd quickly found a new goal - the sweet spot right under his left ear.

"Hold… ugh… hold up…"

She responded to his request with another sharp jerk of her pelvis.

"Jesus _Christ_!" He jolted.

His eyes rolled behind closed lids, his neck arched and the muscles in his jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth.

"…let's just take this slow… Baby… Gawh…"

She grounded down harder and his hands flew to her hips. He clutched and pawed, desperate to halt her moments.

"Slow down… baby… you gotta give me..." He sputtered, but she just kept on rubbing and grinding. "…Amy… please.'

She seemed to finally hear him. She scooted back and relieved the tension for a moment. The nibbling and lapping at his throat distracted him and it was only when he felt her fingers low on his stomach that he realized the little minx had undone his jeans and was currently attempting to sneak her hand inside. He snatched her wrist before she had a chance.

"Whoa-whoa-whoa!" He exclaimed. "Time out!"

Their eyes met.

"What?" She mewled.

"Sweetheart, we…"

She was pouting. It almost dug him in.

"We gotta take this slow… I-I don't wanna hurt you." He breathed out.

"I'm fine." She dove in for his lips, but he evaded her.

"Yeah, now! But you keep rubbing up against me like that… I'm gonna…" He paused before he reluctantly choked out: "Baby, I'm gonna snap."

"Then snap." She shrugged.

She came at him and the hand on her hip hastily delved between her disheveled locks, seizing the back of her head to keep her at bay so he could speak.

"No-no-no-no. Amy…"

She sighed as he looked up at her, scolding.

"Slow and easy… ok?"

She forced her body to relax and, after a pause, she nodded:

"Slow and easy… Got it." She agreed grudgingly.

Hesitantly, he craned his neck to give her a soft peck. She kept her promise and didn't move, even as he brushed his lips against hers again.

Sluggishly, he grazed and prodded, increasing the pressure with each try, each kiss growing deeper and lasting longer.

He tested the waters by loosening his grasp on her wrist and she remained compliant.

"See…" Nibble. "We can do…" Lick. "…slow."

"Uh-huh…" She muttered between kissed.

With her hands now free, she tugged at his jacket and shirt, slipped them off his shoulders and discarded them to the floor. It didn't take long for the t-shirt to follow.

When he didn't make a move to help her out of her clothing, Amy took it upon herself and pulled the string around her waist. The robe fell open, revealing a simple white bra, matching underwear and a dark angry bruise below her right breast.

Dean gulped and took the time to guiltily trace the purple contours before nuzzling against her neck.

Something was missing…

He drew back and looked down at her chest.

Where were they?

Amy took in the crease that settled between his brows.

"What?"

Her question redirected his attention to her face.

Where was her necklace? Why wasn't she wearing it?

"Dean…?"

He shook his head and smiled up at her.

He'd ask her about the rings some other time. No need to let her know he'd been spying on her back at the diner. If he brought that up, considering their history, it would just serve to break out another fight between them.

* * *

"I'm going up there." Garrett announced matter-of-factly, eliciting a flinch from Sam.

The kid was gonna get pummeled but there was nothing he could do.

"Guess he's gonna learn the hard way." Bobby voiced out Sam's thoughts, as they watched the young man make his way up the staircase.

* * *

Sure… it had started off as planned - sweet and steady. But two minutes into it and pecks and soft cuddling quickly escalated to heavy groping.

Cocooned in his arms, Amy arched back, letting him trail hungry, open-mouth kisses down her exposed throat and along the line of her collarbone. Her hand wormed its way between their bodies, all the way down to his lap. Blindly, it found its intended mark and Dean's hips instinctively jerked up. He bit into her shoulder to stifle a growl when she wrapped her fingers around him and began a lazy pumping motion, never giving him a chance to adjust to the powerful wave of lust that hit him.

Above him, Amy watched in awe - his eyes were closed and he rested his sweat-beaded forehead on her chest, lolling left and right. She squeezed harder, prompting him to purse his lips and shut his lids tighter. It wasn't long before he was grunting and bucking up into her touch, hopelessly trying to increase the tempo.

When she didn't abide by his silent request, he groaned:

"Faster…"

She pretended not to hear.

"Faster…" He repeated, fretfully thrusting into her hand.

"What happened to slow and easy?" She teased.

His glassy eyes found a smirk on her lips. It crumbled as he abruptly clutched her forearm.

Amy allowed him to control the pace; up and down, steadily picking up speed and pressure. Spellbound by his fierce stare, she remained oblivious to the finger worming itself around the string of her thong, stretching it. And when the cord finally snapped off she was startled.

Hurriedly, Dean pushed the now useless bit of fabric out of the way and released her arm to grab her by the waist with both hands. With one sharp tug she was gruffly towed flush against him. Amy's palms flattened against his chest for support and the two exchanged restless looks.

Holding her breath, Amy dropped her hips. His fingers dug into her flesh at the feel of her… soaking and warm.

It took all of his self-control not to thrust up. Instead, he remained motionless and waited, anxiously watching her shift above him. She used his shoulders for leverage and bit, by excruciating bit, began pushing him inside her, past her body's initial resistance.

He swallowed dryly as she rose and fell, pulling up only to drive him back in, bringing him just a little deeper with every try. Their breathing patterns turned erratic and their combined moans filled the small room.

It was a slow, hard process. But patience was never one of Amy's virtues. Without warning, she shoved down harder and Dean's eyes shot open.

"Jesus…!" He cursed, all of a sudden finding himself completely sheathed in her.

The two were drenched and panting frantically. Amy made an attempt to move and he gripped her hips.

"Just… just give me… You-you gotta… just a sec…" He stammered ineptly, inhaling deeply through his nostrils, desperately trying to center himself.

He'd been waiting for this for too long to let it end in thirty seconds flat. 'Cause that was what was gonna happen if she didn't stop. She was just gonna have to give him some time. That's all he needed. Time to-

"Will you stop that?" He growled up at her.

"What?!"

"Can't you just keep still for a goddamn second? I can't concentrate." He grumbled, frustrated by his utter inability to control his own body when it came to the woman straddling him.

"You need to concentrate?"

He picked up on the sarcastic undertone in her voice. He didn't like.

"Just… just don't move, ok?" He sighed.

She chuckled and he shot her a dirty look.

"What?" He demanded.

"Nothing…" She bit back a snigger.

"What?!"

"Dean Winchester, womanizer extraordinaire… has to concentrate? You gotta admit… it's ironic."

"Not funny, Carrington." He narrowed his eyes at her.

"It's kinda fu-"

"It's not!" He cut her off.

Reluctantly, Amy refrained from speaking and waited.

After about a minute, she arched a haughty eyebrow at him to question:

"You done concentrating?"

"You're gonna pay for this…" He threatened.

She was about to deliver the witty retort she had reserved for him when there was a knock at the door.

"_Amy…?"_

She jolted and scrambled to get off of Dean, but his hold on her waist kept her in place.

"It's Garrett." She announced the obvious, as if that would make a difference.

"So…?"

Amy widened her eyes at him

"So?! What if he-"

"_Can I come in?"_

"No!" Amy immediately shrieked.

Worming around in his lap, she struggled to get up. She was no match for Dean and he effortlessly grabbed her flailing forearms.

"Dean… what are-"

He gave her an impish, lopsided grin, locking both her wrists behind her back with one large hand, leaving his left one free to wreak havoc.

"Are you insane?! Let me go!" She hissed down at him.

Shit, Garrett was saying something from the other side of the door.

"Yeah… um… what?" She bellowed; her terrified eyes never leaving the fingers that currently tickled their way over the line of her hip bone.

"Dean…" She tried to sound menacing and he probed lower between their bodies.

"_Is everything ok, in there?"_

"Told you, sweetheart…" Dean grinned. "Payback's a bitch."

Amy glared at him.

"You sure?"

Amy was about to answer Garrett's question, when Dean's clever thumb picked that exact moment to find the small bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. As a result, her mangled reply came out an octave higher than usual:

"No! I mean, yes! Don't come in."

'_Fuck!'_

"_Are you ok?"_

"Yeah, Amy… you feelin' alright…? You look kinda… flushed." Dean mocked.

"I'm going to kil-Oh god…"

His finger drew lazy circles around her clit and she bit down on her lower lip to keep from screaming. Of its own accord, her pelvis started to sway back and forth. A low groan coming from Dean drew her attention.

'_Two could play this game.'_ She thought.

"I'm fine, Garrett…" She choked out. "What do you want?"

"_Is Dean in there?"_

"Yeah."

"_Dean?"_ Garrett called out.

A look of pure panic crossed his face when he saw the devious glint in Amy's eyes. She leaned in to whisper:

"Say hi, Dean."

She punctuated the sentence by simultaneously thrusting into him and squeezing her inner muscles.

"Fuck!" He cursed.

"_Dean?"_

"What is it?!" Dean growled in an intoxicating mix of lust and rage.

Realizing he was losing the battle, he flicked his thumb faster and harder, ripping a whimper out of Amy.

"_Bobby's here. Says he wants to talk to you."_

"Ok." Dean mumbled, mesmerized by the sight on her surging above him.

No longer a part of the awkward conversation, Amy surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure. By now her movements were harsh and greedy, becoming faster and increasingly erratic with each push.

"_So… you comin'?"_

'_Not if you don't shut the hell up and go away!' _He thought.

"Christ…" He grunted, feeling her tighten around him.

"_Dean!"_

"What?!" He roared.

He threw caution to the wind and let go of her wrists to wrap his arms around her, bring her as close to him as possible. Her hands fisted into his hair and pulled him in.

"_You comin' or not?"_

"Yeah…" It was barely audible, as he burrowed his face between her breasts. "I'll be…" Gasp. "…down in a minute."

Confident that Garrett had given up, Dean turned all of his focus on Amy.

He pawed at the robe, trying to take it off, but his coordination skills were lacking and the fabric put up a fight. Amy didn't help either, she just didn't seem to want to let go of him long enough to get the item off.

He gave up and turned to the cup of her bra. Hooking his fingers into the cotton, he shoved it out of the way.

His mouth was on her in a heartbeat, desperately licking, biting at every inch of flesh he could find. His hips bucked up obsessively, faster and faster, building a frantic crescendo.

Despite the haze surrounding him, he recognized the signs all too well… He looked up and, sure enough… she was close. He ran his hand along from her spine to the back of her head and forced her to meet his gaze.

There was a beat before the two rushed one another. Their mouths met halfway and months of charged up energy ripped through them, sending them toppling over the edge.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

Sometimes… all it takes is a faint nudge … a quiet intake of breath, or maybe just a muffled pant to pierce through the haze and hurl you back to reality.

For Amy, that instant came when she felt his thumb lazily brush over the corner of her jaw.

Without warning, she broke the kiss. Dean instinctively trailed after her; lids still closed… blindly seeking the warmth of her mouth.

He let out a complaining groan when he failed to recapture her lips… Suddenly, she was scrambling away from him.

His eyes snapped open. Still reeling from what had just happened between them, it took him a couple of blinks to focus his sight. By the time he did, she was already halfway across the room.

"What-" His voice caught in his throat. Shaking his head, refocusing, he tried again: "What are you doin'?"

"You gotta go." She stated matter-of-factly, picking up his shirt and flinging it at him.

He managed to grab the item before it hit him square in the face. Dumbstruck, Dean watched her hastily fasten the robe around her frame; her shaking hands coming up to secure her unruly locks behind both ears before she looked up at him.

He held her gaze in silence, allowing the aggravation worming around in his stomach to build up. It was always the same thing with her.

After ten long seconds he put her out of her misery. He stood up and began putting on his clothes with sharp, angry movements.

"Well, _that_ didn't take long."

His disheveled hair poked out oddly as he gruffly pushed his head through the collar of his t-shirt.

"You're getting better at this, sweetheart."

The bitterness in his tone was hard to ignore and it made her flinch. But she didn't say anything, merely stood there as he slipped on the rest of his clothes.

"You're down to what? Five seconds?"

His glowering eyes met hers, just as he finished zipping up his jeans. Despite the chill running down her back, she was able to retort with a masterful sigh:

"Don't know what you're talking about, Winchester…"

Was she serious? Wasn't it obvious? She was running! Like she always did whenever they…

"Just forget it!" He gave up, shoulders slumped. "You're right. I gotta go. Bobby's waitin'."

She didn't get a chance to get a word in. He was already out the door.

* * *

"What's up?"

All heads turned to the staircase to find Dean striding into the bar.

"We're in a shitload of trouble, that's what's up." Garret's sneer earned him an immediate reproach from Ellen:

"Watch your mouth, kid."

"What?! We're in the middle of the God damn Apocalypse and you're worried about cursin'? Lady, you better get your priorities straight." The Texan scoffed.

Ominously, Ellen leaned over the counter with a deadly warning:

"You listen to me, boy. As long as you're under _my_ roof, you're gonna live by _my_ rules. And the rule is - _no_ _cursin'_, got it?"

All arrogance drained out of him under the menacing glare and he quickly backpedaled:

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good."

With the confrontation settled, Dean turned his attention back to Bobby.

"Sam fill you in?"

"Yeah. And I hate to say it… but we're in a shitload of trouble."

Garrett jerked up and anxiously waited for Ellen's reaction. It never came.

"So he gets to swear but I don't?" Garrett whined.

"He's Bobby." Ellen replied, dismissing the young man with no further explanation. "I'm worried about Jo. It's not gonna take long before word gets out to other hunters."

"She's with Gunther, right?" Sam joined in on the conversation.

Ellen nodded, anxiety tightening her jaw.

"Tell her to get out of Sacramento." Dean decided on the spot.

"And go where?" Sam questioned.

"Dunno. They know she's Ellen's daughter. They could use her to get to us. Just get her away from hunters. Tell her to head down south, away from this whole mess. I never really liked the idea of her joinin' up anyway." Dean explained.

Ellen nodded and reached for the wall phone behind her.

As she dialed the familiar number, Sam got up and approached Dean. He leaned in to whisper:

"You do know she's gonna come straight here, right?"

"Yeah." Dean let out a heavy breath. "Still worth a shot."

A minute later, Ellen was off the phone and announcing:

"Gunther knows. Jo's on her way over."

Sam sent Dean an '_I told you.'_ look and in return got a silent '_I know.'_.

"What about Reggie?" Sam inquired.

"What about me?"

Reggie stood at the front door, shirt torn, dusty jeans ripped at the right knee. Her hips swayed dangerously as she crossed the bar and dropped her dirty duffle bag on the stool next to the youngest Winchester. The sly smirk she directed at him made him squirm, but what dug him in was her question:

"Miss me, Sammy?"

"Wha-No, -I mean, yeah- I mean, we all… um…"

"Reg, quit messin' with the boy."

"Spoilsport." She faked a pout, but conceded to Bobby's request.

Reggie backed away, affording Sam much needed breathing space. She was tiny compared to him, but she sure knew how to suck the air out of the room. Awkwardly, he straightened up in his seat, keeping his nervous gaze on her as she ambled about the room with catlike sloth.

"Where've you been?" Bobby demanded.

"Doin' my job." She answered, sizing up the only two males unidentified to her. "After getting rid of a nasty Poltergeist in Fremont…" Her eyes were on the older stranger as she spoke. "I was having a _job_ _well_ _done_ drink in some half ass excuse for a bar…" Once she was done with John Doe number one, she began recon on number two. He was much younger, taller and leaner than the first. He had shaggy hair and was slouched over the counter, wearing the cutest, doe-eyed sulk she'd seen in years. This was gonna be fun.

"And?"

Dean's aggravated question put her back on track. She put on an instant plastic smile.

"Guess who I ran into?"

There was no reply from the audience, she didn't expect one either.

"Good old Dudley. Came in with a couple of his boys. One of them had on a bran-spankin'-new shiner." The way she was eyeing Dean, it was clear she knew more than she was letting on. "Anyway, good old Dudley told me somethin'."

The tension mounted until Reggie came to a halt. Spinning on her heels, she cocked an eyebrow and zeroed in on Sam:

"Any guesses?"

The stillness stretched on as the blonde hunter closed in on Sam.

"I hear you've done a very, very naughty thing, Sammy… That true?"

Sam's Adam's apple testified to his intense discomfort, bobbing a couple of times before he answered:

"It's true. I did it." And with a pounding heart, he waited for the inevitable look of disgust.

To his and everyone's surprise, Reggie remained unfazed, keeping perfectly still. Her blue eyes scrutinized every inch of his face and after what felt like an eternity she slanted her head sideways. Throwing him an unreadable double-eyebrow lift, she turned to Bobby, carrying on as if nothing had happened:

"So who are the newbies? I figure that one's the turncoat." She raised her chin at Luke who gave her a nod.

"Luke Dann."

"Regina Becker. Call me Reggie. What about you?"

Garrett straightened up immediately and sent her his best brash leer.

"Garrett Bailey. And what should I call you, honey?"

Dean rolled his eyes at the Texan's cheesy attempt at swagger.

"Sweetie, _you…_ can call me _mommy_."

Sam couldn't help chuckling at the look on Garrett's face. Though Reggie's comeback had been amusing, Dean remained on point:

"So that it? You're not gonna have a hissy fit? Gang up on my brother?"

"I didn't exactly do a happy-jig when I found out. And I'm still not sure about this. But since the shit _is_ going to hit the fan, I figure my best option is to stick with you guys." She paused before adding a pointed: "For now."

Reggie's swearing and the lack of scolding coming from Ellen bruised Garrett's ego further.

"Let me guess… She gets to curse 'cause she's Reggie?"

"Kid, I gave up on her a _long_ time ago."

Reggie smiled, strolling towards a nearby table.

Amy faltered in her stride mid-staircase when she spotted the blonde strutting across the room. She was probably in her late twenties, but exuded a poise that went well beyond her years. Everything about her, from the way she moved to the raspy timber of her hoarse voice made her govern the attention of the group, especially the male members and… Amy checked… definitely Dean's. The idiot's slit eyes never left the woman's ass as she walked away from him. Instinctively, Amy fisted her hands at her side when she saw his tongue slip out to hastily wet his dry lips.

Unceremoniously, Reggie propped herself up to sit on the table, her legs dangling over the edge.

"Regina Becker, get your skinny ass off my table." Ellen bellowed. "We got plenty of chairs to go around."

Begrudgingly, Reggie did as she was told. Crossing her arms over her chest, she provoked Dean:

"So, what's the plan Obi-wan?"

"Obi-wan, really? I think I'm more of a Han Solo."

He was flirting! Amy suppressed a growl.

"Touché." Reggie had to give him that one.

"We should call everyone. See where we're at. Who's in, who's out?" Sam offered.

"I'm with Sam." Bobby agreed.

"I guess we better start dialing." Dean settled the issue.

"Ok, then. You ladies get to work. I'm gonna take a shower." Reggie declared picking up her duffle bag on her way to the stairs.

She slowed down when she came across an unfamiliar female coming in the opposite direction. Her hair was wet and the drenched locks were fastened high on the back of her head in a messy bun, emphasizing her long neck. She wore an orange, sleeveless, mid thigh wrap-dress and white satin mule pumps with a five inch heel.

Reggie didn't have to check to know that every man in the room was now gaping at her. After all, the woman _was_ drop dead gorgeous.

Reggie smirked and giving her a once over questioned:

"And who's the belle of the ball?"

Lifting her chin and matching Reggie's dissecting gaze, Amy replied promptly:

"Amy Carrington."

The look of recognition came as a surprise to Amy. Reggie glanced over her shoulder at the group.

"She the doc?"

Ellen nodded.

"Well, well, sweet pea… don't you look like you just waltzed straight out of Grey's Anatomy's?"

"It's _Amy_. And I got my degree from Harvard Medical School, _not_ ABC." She bit out.

"My bad doc, sorry." Reggie's apology sounded false as she turned her inspecting stare on Dean.

Very early on in her life, Reggie had figured out two things. One, if you get attached to someone, they can and will, at some point, hurt you. Ergo, her first rule was -never get attached, especially to men.

The second epiphany was knowing that being underestimated was a powerful thing and that the best way to achieve that, when you were a woman, was to project an image of an aloof, oversexed female. Add a pinch of crazy into the mix and you were sure to be dismissed by most people as a non-threatening '_piece of hot-ass_'.

Sure, it bugged her that everyone thought she was nothing more than a horny bubblehead, but this persona afforded her the freedom she needed to move about without arousing suspicion and at the same time made it impossible for her to develop any kind long term relationship, even if she wanted. Because who falls for the town slut, right?

So this was her life and this was how she lived it. One day at a time, no strings attached. She behaved this way with everyone, and Dean Winchester was not an exception.

Over the last two months they'd struck an unspoken deal between them. It was pretty straightforward, really. She was a single woman, he was a single man and they shared two traits in common - they both _loved_ sex and both had an innate inability to deal with emotion turmoil. Put those two together and it wasn't long before they became what Reggie called '_bump-buddies_'.

And it worked… for a while. They kept it strictly about sex - no talking, no romantic entanglements. It was an easy, fun way of exorcizing their inner demons. But no matter how much she tried to act and think like a man, her true nature eventually betrayed her.

It had happened gradually and without her noticing, until one day it had come out to bite her in the ass. All of a sudden, she realized she knew and cared more about Dean Winchester than she needed to. She knew all his likes and dislikes and somewhere along the way she'd mastered the art of reading his tell signs. He didn't have to utter a word for her to know when he was happy, or sad, or when something was on his mind.

The final, terrifying straw had come one night when, instead of dragging herself out of his bed and into her own after a particularly successful sex-therapy session, she'd found herself rolling onto her side to stare at his slumbering shape. She'd lay there, shielded by the hues of night, until the first strings of sunlight had filtered in through the bedroom window.

Sensing she was in over her head, she'd decided to jump ship and cut her losses. She didn't speak or look at him for a whole week. That was until he'd cornered her in the basement and well… the inevitable happened… again… and again.

But it wasn't the same after that. Not for Reggie, at least. She'd become an expert in reading his body language and the image of the carefree, womanizing scoundrel was lost to her, replaced by a complex, troubled man.

No matter how fleeting, she could no longer ignore the moments when his stare would wander off into the distance and a heartbreaking look of sorrow would settle over his features. Those days, he'd always resort to the Impala as a way of escaping. He'd labor away silently under the hood of that car for a few hours and then he'd be back, cocky grin and sharp tongue; renewed.

She told herself it was a result of all the hardships he'd lived with his family. But the nagging feeling there was something else under the surface wouldn't let up. There was something beyond the pain and loss he'd gone through with his father, his brother…

Some_thing_ else, turned out to be some_one_ else when one day, at lunch, Bobby randomly brought up an acquaintance of theirs - some young doctor, down in Griffin, by the name of Amy Carrington. Reggie was never good with names, but this one was burned into her brain along with the look on Dean's face at the mere mention of her.

Now, standing in middle of Ellen's bar, staring at him, it all clocked into place for Reggie.

The signs were subtle, but they were there.

She saw it in his stance. His back had gone rigid and was perfectly aligned. She saw it in the nervous lump in the middle of his throat, wobbling up and down tensely while his fingers fussed and picked at the label of his beer bottle.

But nothing was more telling than his eyes. They were large, with an almost childlike awe, and utterly and completely fixed on one person - Amy. For Dean, there seemed to be no one else in the room but… _her_.

Reggie ignored the weight pressing down on her chest and bravely sent Dean a poignant look as she added:

"This explains a lot."

Dean shuffled his feet awkwardly.

Damn! Texas had taste after all.

He scanned his surroundings and, sure enough, with the exception of Bobby, every red blooded male in the room was staring at her, even Sammy. Judging from the way his gaze was bouncing off the walls, it was clear he was uncomfortable but, somehow, his eyes always seemed to land back on Amy's legs. Could he blame him?

If that dress was any shorter it would have to be relabeled as a belt. Looking at Amy, two thirds of her were legs and those things went on forever… long, luscious, milky white…

'_Focus!'_

Amy was too busy with Reggie to notice the shameless gawking headed her way. From the instant she'd set her sights on the newly arrived guest, she'd taken an immediate dislike to her. Factor in the Grey's Anatomy quip, the condescending pet name, the lopsided grin she was _still_ sporting and the shameless Dean flirting and dislike was quickly morphing into an ill advised urge to slap this woman.

"Name's Reggie, by the way."

And with that she chasséd up the stairs. Once she was gone, Amy joined the rest of the group.

"Explains a lot? What did she mean by that?"

Dean refused to meet her inquiring frown and along with his brother buried his eyes in his drink when she took a seat next to Sammy.

"What was that?"

"_That…_ was Reggie Becker." Bobby explained.

"Is she always this… delightful?" Amy wondered sardonically.

"Pretty much." Bobby informed.

"Great!" Amy threw a murderous sideways glance at Dean, who was now fascinated with the contents of his glass.

After a beat, Dean cracked under the pressure and without meeting her glower, blurted:

"How about we start cracking down on those phone numbers?"

Tensely, he picked up his drink and took off in the direction of the kitchen.

"He means us, right?" Garrett grumbled. "´Cause as far as I know… there ain't no phone in the kitchen."


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

"I got good news and bad news." Bobby announced ending the call on his cell. He rubbed his ear as he walked over to the table joining Dean and Sam. "Bad news - Gunther's definitely out. Good news?"

Dean and Sam looked up in anticipation.

"I just learned me a bunch of new curse words I didn't even know existed." Bobby put on a plastic smile, sinking into one of the available chairs.

"That's useful." Dean snorted.

"At least, he's not gunning for us. Say's as long as we stay out of Sacramento, he's lettin' us be. And _that, _boys… is _good_ news. Trust me; you don't want Dan Gunther on your asses."

The two seemed unimpressed by this.

"Gail Harrison and Mitch Crawford bailed too, so we lost Montana and Wyoming." Sam scratched the two names off the list.

Dean let out a resounding sigh and leaned back in his seat; his arms wide-open as he posed the dreaded question:

"I'm afraid to ask, but is there anyone still on board."

"Couldn't get a hold of Arbor, so Texas might still be an option." Sam explained, checking his list.

"Frank's not picking up either." Bobby added.

Dean slouched forward and propped his elbow on the table to run a tired hand over his face. It settled over the back of his neck and his gaze inevitably drifted to the auburn-haired woman parked two tables down from theirs, surrounded by two large stacks of books.

Shit!

They hadn't said a word to each other all day, but in the span of the two hours they'd been sitting there, his eyes had wandered off to her at least twenty three times now. Yes! Not only was he letting her distract him but he was also counting and that earned him the prestigious badge of _'most pathetic person in the room'_.

Shit!

Concentrating on the job was already hard enough with her sitting fifteen feet away from him, it would be damn near impossible if she was gonna spend the rest of the time parading around in flimsy summer dresses. He had to fix this. Now!

"Where're Garret and Dann?"

Dean redirected his attention to his own table.

"Out back. Target practicin'." Bobby said.

Five seconds later… He did it again and Dean finally reached his limit - twenty four.

"Where you goin'?" Sam wondered when his brother stood up abruptly.

"Be right back. Gotta fix somethin'."

Bobby and Sam exchanged a look, but said nothing as Dean closed the distance between himself and Amy.

"What'cha doin'?"

She looked up from her book.

"Baking apple pie." She replied caustically, returning to the page. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"We gotta talk."

"I'm kinda busy."

"It's important." He insisted.

"Still busy." She sing-songed, continuing to examining the manuscript.

"Carrington…"

She snapped up:

"I thought you didn't wanna talk!"

His brows jerked up defensively:

"I'm not the one who freaked out, back there."

"I didn't freak out." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"No? Then what do you call it? Cause it looked to me like you were ready to pull a '_bat out of hell_' on me."

The two held angry gazes for a few moments before he spoke again:

"Anyway, that's not why I wanna talk to you."

Amy struggled to hide the disappointment and kept her chin up.

"Then talk."

"Winchester!"

The two whirled around to see Reggie standing at the back door.

She wore her usual attire which consisted of a white tank top, ruffled denim shorts and a pair of brown Doc Martens. From the grease stains marring her hands and knees she'd been working on her car.

"Could you give me a hand with the Plymouth?"

Dean's eyes bounced back and forth between the two women.

"Can't it wait?"

"It sprang a leak and right about now it looks like I just hit a gusher out back. Ellen's gonna have my head on a plate if that oil pool gets any bigger." Reggie countered.

She was right. Ellen was not going be happy and an unhappy Ellen was never a good thing. His conversation with Amy would have to wait. Plus, it would give him a chance to get away from her and her never-ending legs… Nothing like some grease and grunt work to get a guy's brain out of the gutter.

"We're not done." He reminded her with a pointing finger before vanishing out the back door with Reggie.

* * *

Sure enough, when they reached the Plymouth there was a considerable puddle of black ooze peeking out from under the chassis. Noticing the front of the vehicle was jacked up, Dean guessed:

"Gasket, huh?"

"Bingo."

"Did it just spring a leak, or is it busted?" He asked while Reggie lay down on her back on the automotive creeper and shimmied under the Road Runner.

"Pretty sure the pan got dented on that damn dirt road off highway 22." She stuck out her hand and requested: "Hand me the ratchet."

She wrapped her fingers around the metallic shaft and smiled under the chassis when she noticed he'd given her the perfect socket size. Though his first and only love was his darling Impala, Dean's knowledge of muscle cars wasn't limited to the old Chevy.

"What's the damage?" He questioned after a while.

She rolled out from under the car carrying the pan, careful not to spill any oil on herself and placed it on a makeshift tool table.

"That doesn't look good." Dean worded out Reggie's thoughts as the two saw the small leaking depression on the side of the pan.

"I can patch it up for now, but I gotta get a new pan and a gasket. Any auto shop nearby?" She wondered.

"Closest one we got is in Sheldonville. But you're probably gonna have to order the parts. Might take a few days." Dean shrugged eyeing her as she used a putty knife to scrape the oil block.

Why was he here? She obviously didn't need his help.

"What's up?"

She stopped what she was doing to flash him a sideways smirk.

"That obvious, huh?"

"You could fix an oil leak blindfolded and with one arm tied behind your back." He returned her smile with one of his own.

But her own grin gradually faded as she pondered how to approach the subject. He gave her the time she needed to find the right words.

"I'm ok with Sammy."

Dean's stomach rumbled uncomfortably and he had to swallow back the acid creeping up his throat in order to speak:

"Sure?"

"We all got our skeletons. Hell, I got so many I need _two_ closets to keep them in check." She joked trying to lighten the mood.

Thankfully, she had the oil pan to keep her hands busy and her eyes away from his.

"And we've all lost our way one time or another. He was blood thirsty for revenge. I know I would want to take a shot at Lilith if she sent the person I cared about the most to the pit." She took a moment to look up and the two exchanged silent nods before she focused back on the pan. "You add a skirt into the mix and… well, we all know what happens to you Winchester boys when there's a skirt involved, especially one with an agenda." She chuckled.

The sound of her laugher soothed him and he allowed his squared shoulders to relax.

"Point is… I'm with you guys, 'kay?"

They locked stares again and she found a grateful half-smile dancing over his lips. It made her knees wobble a bit, so she quickly devised a way to put out the spark that began flaring up in her belly at the sight of him.

"Speakin' of skirts, what about the doc?" She managed to sound perfectly detached, even amused when he shifted awkwardly at the mention of Amy.

"What about her?" His attempt at casual wasn't as successful.

"She got to you, didn't she? Hook, line and sinker."

"Sweetheart, no one puts a hook on me."

"Right…" She snorted. "You keep tellin' yourself that, big boy."

There was a moment pause, which quickly stretched into minutes of silence. From the corner of her eyes she noticed him run a jittery hand over the back of his neck.

"Just come out and say it, Winchester?"

He cleared his throat awkwardly before he began:

"Well… about us…?"

"Us? There's an _us_?" She interrupted him, stopping to give him an impish look.

"I'm talkin' about… you know…" He fumbled around with the words.

"Actually, I don't… Care to enlighten me?"

She was poking fun at him. She knew exactly what he was referring to.

"I'm talking about how we… um… sometimes… um… we… um…" The best he could come up with was: "How we sometimes scratch each other's backs?"

"That's what you're callin' it?"

"Oh, come on, Reg, cut me some slack, will ya?" He complained.

"Don't worry. She's not gonna hear a peep out of me."

He gave her a grateful smile and she let a moment pass before she advised him:

"You better get your ass back in there, that girl's probably foaming at the mouth right about now."

"Thanks Reg."

"You're welcome." With a nostalgic a look on her face and a constricting tightness in her chest she watched him scurry up the steps of the back porch and disappear into the Roadhouse.

A frown scrunched up his brows when he entered the bar and found Amy's table vacant.

"Where'd she go?" He asked coming up to his brother.

Sam glanced at the table and then back at Dean. All he had for him was a shrug.

"Beats me."

Carrying a box of beer, Ellen emerged from the kitchen to inform:

"She went out back with the boys."

Upon Dean's quizzical look she elaborated:

"Guess she's trying to learn the ropes."

* * *

Dean propped up his shoulder against one of the beams supporting the porch roof once the three figures in the distance came into view. Luke sat on a carton, diligently waiting for his turn, while Garrett circled around Amy, supposedly inspecting her posture as she prepare to fire.

"No, no. Left foot out." Garrett explained bumping her heel forwards.

"Should I shake it all about too?" She mocked eyeing the can propped up on a cardboard box 50 feet away.

Garrett chuckled and came to stand behind her. Dean's back stiffened as the hunter brought his body flush against hers. With his chin resting on her right shoulder, his fingers nudged at her elbow, straightening out her arm, before wrapping themselves over the back of her gun-wielding hand.

"Now… grip it tight. You got to really _feel_ the gun." As he said it, he pressed his body closer to hers. "You feel it?"

Amy tilted her head towards him; his face inches from hers, his eyes large with expectation. She arched an eyebrow at him and quipped:

"Oh, I feel it alright."

Garrett swallowed dryly and cleared his throat. Was she flirting with him?

She batted her lashes.

Oh, dear God, she was!

Amy continued in an uncharacteristically rasping tone:

"Tell me something, Garrett… Do you like to _feel_?"

Garrett choked. Unable to utter a single word, he nodded comically.

"In that case…"

He gawked, frozen in place as she leaned in. When she spoke again the sweetness had vanished from her voice:

"… I suggest you back up, _right_ _now_. 'Cause if you don't…? I will _kick_ you so hard you won't be able to feel a thing from the waist down for a _week_." She finished off with a childlike smile and a: "Got it?"

Luke stifled a laugh while Garrett immediately stepped away from the young physician.

Dean was too far way to hear what she'd just said, but judging by the way Garrett jerked back and was now awkwardly running his hand through his hair he could imagine. Pride washed over him and he felt compelled to approach the group.

"Ok, then… um… now, align the front sight with the rear." Garrett stuttered uncomfortably.

"It's this metallic thingy sticking out, right?"

"Right."

"Got it. Now what?"

"Keep your focus on the front sight… bring it up to the target…"

Amy did as she was told.

"Now, _gently_…" He emphasized the word by drawing it out. "…squeeze the trigger."

She did it, but not before shutting her eyes in anticipation of the loud blast. The shot rang out and she reared back, staggering a bit. The shoes didn't help matters and she tripped. Thankfully, Garrett was there to keep her from tumbling to the ground.

"Jesus!" She gasped, snapping her eyes open.

The can was still there, unmoved, mocking her, as a thin cloud of dust dissipated a few feet to the right of the carton box.

"That would _kinda_ work better if you kept your eyes open."

She heard the familiar voice, the one that always made the butterflies in her stomach run amok, coming from behind her. Amy set her mouth in a straight line and spun around to glare daggers at Dean as he lazily shambled over to them.

"Just a suggestion." He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and drew his shoulders in mock innocence.

But the Cheshire smirk he had on didn't fool her.

"By the way, you look ridiculous trying to shoot a gun wearing that." He gave her a pointed once over and her jaw clenched.

A gush of wind blew by, causing her dress to flare up just a smidgen and all humor drained out of him, quickly replaced by a crushing jolt of lust in his gut.

Silently, she redirected her attention to the can and fired another shot. It was even worse but she didn't let it get to her. She tried again and again and every time she would either close her eyes or real back.

For every bullet there was a blur of sand emanating from the ground, proof of her incompetence when it came to firearms.

And the can remained untouched.

That is until Dean unexpectedly reached for the Glock safely tucked in the waistband of his denims, on his lower back. Before she could process what was happening, he'd drawn the weapon and fired a single shot.

The can let out a clanging whine, howling up into the air before dropping with a dull thud onto the dust.

A surge of adrenaline rushed through her whole body but Amy refused to show any outward signs of being impressed.

"And what was that for?"

"Just makin' a point, _sweetheart_. If you wanna learn how to shoot a gun, you're better off learning from the best." Dean stated matter-of-factly, arrogance seeping from every syllable.

"Weren't you busy giving hunter-Barbie auto shop lessons?"

Dean's witty comeback died in his throat when Garrett suddenly grabbed the gun from Amy's hand and seemingly without aiming discharged two consecutive bullets.

The first caused the can to shoot up off the ground, the second hit the miserable container while it was still in mid-flight.

Amy wasn't shy about demonstrating her admiration at the remarkable show of skill.

"Ow! That was-"

She was silenced by the piercing clamor of a round of shots coming from Dean's handgun.

Amy's wide eyes followed the invisible projectile from the Glock's muzzle all the way to the can. It lifted off, taking flight once again; its trajectory shifting abruptly as each bullet hit it in mid-air.

Unwilling to be outshined, Garrett joined in and the game was on.

It seemed that the point of it was to keep the container from falling to the dirt. Amy and Luke stood by and watched as the two tried to outdo one another, each taking his turn. Together, the two hunters created an erratic dance, perfectly executed by the tortured tin. Barely recognizable the can finally dropped to the ground with a defeated thud, when Garrett failed to take his turn. He pressed the trigger a couple of times but nothing came out. He'd run out of bullets.

Dean was beaming.

"17 is always better than 15." He boasted, referring to the number of rounds in the clips.

"I could've beaten you." Garrett snarled.

"Coulda, woulda, shoulda. You lost, Texas." Dean jeered taking a fully loaded, fresh magazine from his back pocket and slamming it into place inside the Glock.

"I didn't lose-"

"Course you didn't…" Dean puffed, pulling the slide. "You-"

"Will you two just stop?" Amy took a step forward and snatched the weapon from Dean's hands. "Gimme that." She began ranting, unaware that she was waving around a loaded gun. "I've had enough of this pathetic display of testosterone induced _idiocy_. I wanna learn how to…" She trailed off when all three men began shouting at the same time, scurrying about, apparently trying to find cover.

Luke had scrambled off the carton and was now huddling behind it, while Dean and Garrett were gawkily flailing their arms and legs in the air.

"Whoa-whoa! What the hell are you doin'?" Dean yelled.

"Down, Amy! Point it down!" Garrett bellowed.

Amy gaped at them at a loss. If she didn't know any better she could have sworn they were having some kind of elaborate epileptic seizure. Unaware of what all the fuss was about, she continued to mindlessly wield the gun about until Dean roared:

"Amy! Stop!"

She froze, unfortunately, when she did, the barrel was aimed straight at his pounding chest. His breath hitched and his eyes snapped open.

"Don't point it at me, woman!"

"Wha'? You told me to stop!" She protested, resuming her gun-waving.

Frustrated, Dean jumped for her wrist. Gripping it tightly, he forced her hand down, until the Glock was pointing to the dirt a few feet away from them.

"God, you're gonna give me a heart attack, Carrington!" He exhaled sharply, once he assessed they were out of any immediate danger.

Luke slowly crawled out from behind the carton, cheeks flushed and a little embarrassed when Garrett frowned at him.

"Yeah, like that was gonna stop a bullet." The blond hunter scoffed.

"What the hell are you doin' teaching her how to shoot if she can't even tell the difference between a locked and a loaded gun." Dean growled.

"We didn't get that far." Garrett blurted in his defense.

"That far? It's the first thing you teach. It's amazing you still got all ten toes." Dean shook his head and turned to Amy. "Lesson number one, you don't… you paying attention?"

She nodded.

"You do not… point a loaded gun at anything other than the floor, got it?"

She tried to register what he was telling her, but his unexpected proximity made it hard to concentrate.

"Got it?" He repeated more forcefully.

"Got it, got it." She replied clumsily, straightening up as he moved to stand behind her much like Garrett had done before.

Except this time, the presence of a noticeably male body snuggly pressed along her back made every hair on her neck stand on end. Never letting go of her arm he placed his left hand low on her hip.

Despite the tingling sensation coursing through her entire being, she still had the presence of mind to send him a dirty look coupled with a snide:

"Don't try to cop a feel."

"Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart." He whispered an inch from her ear.

He locked his hand over hers and pulled up, lining up the sight with what was left of the can.

"Finger off the trigger. Close your left eye. When you get better at this you'll want to keep both open, but for now just close it."

She forced her body to loosen up, but it refused to relax, not when he was practically glued to her. Their chests rose and fell in unison and she could feel his breath on her cheek, his scent looping around her, bleeding into her clothes.

'_Puff, so much for concentrating.'_

"Can you see it?" Though his voice was unruffled, the fidgeting fingers on her hip gave away his own restlessness over their current situation.

"Uh-huh…" She didn't think talking would be advisable at that particular moment.

She was certain that if she did, all that would come out of her mouth would be incomprehensible gibberish.

"You ready?"

She gave him another 'uh-huh'. She wasn't sure if the erratic thumping she felt in the middle of her back came from her or Dean.

"Remember… there's gonna be a kick, but you gotta keep your eye on the target."

Damn, his heart was going a mile a second and God… did she have to smell this good?

By now she'd even given up on 'uh-huh' and settled for nodding.

"Slowly… _very_ slowly, press down on the trigger."

She did and to everyone's shock… she did it.

Sure, the can wasn't airborne and barely moved, but it jolted a bit and that was enough for her to scream:

"I did it!"

The fact that she was holding a loaded semi-automatic weapon was lost to her in her excitement. Fortunately, Dean was there to pry the Glock out of her hand, when she whirled around to celebrate.

"I can't believe it! I did it! I didn't think I could do it, but I did it! Did you see that?!" She looked like a four year old kid on Christmas morning.

She flung her arms in the air and immediately regretted it as the swift movement triggered a sting centered on her bruised ribcage. Her hand instantly dropped to nurse the tender stop and she cringed and for second everything went white.

Once she stopped cringing and opened her eyes, Dean and Garrett were framing her side on either side.

An uncomfortable silence followed as she looked from one man to the other, while the two traded steely glares.

"You ok?" Garrett was the first to speak.

"Yeah… I'm…" Her jittery gaze bounced from Dean to ground, up to Garrett and back to her feet. "…fine."

"Ok, fun's over. Let's go." Dean quickly ordered, but when he tried to pull her in the direction of the Roadhouse Amy refused to move.

"No. I wanna keep practicing."

"You can practice when your ribs have healed."

He tugged at her again. Amy didn't budge.

"No!" She repeated vehemently. "I gotta learn how to do this. I'm sick of not being able to fend for myself."

"That's why you got me, sweetheart. Now, move."

"I said no, damn it!" Amy yelled, freeing herself from his grip. "Don't you get it? I don't want to _need_ you to protect me. I want to be able to do it _myself_."

Dean gaped at her.

First came the pain, as if someone had just punched him in the gut so hard he had to double over. He didn't though, because soon after a bruised ego and blinding fury took over him.

With bawled fists and through a tightly closed jaw he bit out: "Fine." and trudged back to the bar.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Sam stepped onto the porch to spot his older brother trudging his way towards the roadhouse with ground-pounding strides. Jaw locked, hands balled into fists at his side, Dean Winchester looked pissed.

"Hey, man. Are you o-" Finding himself on the chilling end of a death glare, Sam stopped mid-sentence and gave up: "Never mind."

Dean stormed past him and into the bar without uttering a word. Sam's worried gaze trailed after him and he inhaled deeply for a sigh. The air caught in his throat as his stare unintentionally landed on one denim-clad, perfectly shaped and _definitely_ feminine ass. It belonged to Reggie, currently bent over with her head hidden under the hood of her car.

He swallowed dryly.

"Sammy?"

He jolted up in surprise; eyes snapping away from the curvy temptation to bounce around aimlessly. His breath hitched as she lazily turned around to face him.

"When you're done checking out my ass… could you bring me a glass of water, _please_?"

Clearly amused, Reggie watched his brows come together high on his forehead as he stammered ineptly:

"I-I wasn't-I… I didn't… um… I was checking out the..." He pointed gracelessly at the large hunk of metal behind her, but despite his best effort, his jumbled brain simply could not supply him with the right name. A million words came to mind. All except for…

"Car?" She suggested, arching an eyebrow at him.

Sam was barely able to meet her gaze.

"Yeah! The…" He gulped miserably, aware of how pathetic he sounded. "…car."

She probably thought he was some kind of sleazy, peeping-tom. He wasn't! He just… Frustrated, Sam let his shoulders drop in defeat and muttered:

"Right! Water… I'll get you some."

* * *

For Garrett's sake, she gave it one more go, but as she missed the tin for the tenth time in a row Amy realized there was no point in doing it anymore. Not when her head was somewhere else.

"I give up. I can't do this." She grumpily handed Garrett the Berretta.

"You're not concentrating."

Well, duh! How was she supposed to concentrate when _his_ face kept popping up every time she aimed at the stupid can? When instead of shiny metal all she saw were knitted brows settled over large, wounded green eyes?

"Come on. Give it another try." He coaxed her.

"No. Me and guns? We don't mesh. I can't shoot and that's that." She decided to embrace her absolute lack of skill.

Amy wallowed in self-pity and her attention inevitably wandered in the direction of the bar. A pang of guilt hit her.

Sometimes she really could be a self-righteous bitch. He'd just been watching out for her. He was worried. It was only natural…

She was already at the front steps when Garrett called out:

"Amy, where're you goin'?"

* * *

Ellen joined the four men huddled around the table and leaned over to inspect the dots scattered across the map; each one signaled an attack on a hunter.

"Last night they hit Damien Ridge in Belleville." Dean announced, adding another mark to the chart.

The clicking sound of approaching heels broke the solemn stillness and he looked up. His eyes zeroed in on her just as she walked into the room. Amy came to a screeching halt. She stood frozen in place, suddenly struggling to swallow against a constricted throat. She was gruffly jerked back to reality by Garrett as he accidentally crashed into her from behind and propelled her forward. His steadying hand was on her forearm in a flash.

"S-sorry!" The young Texan mumbled nervously, caught off guard by the unexpected close contact.

"I'm ok." She guaranteed, awkwardly worming out of his grasp.

Her shaky fingers brushed away a few loose curls and she chanced a glance at the table. All eyes were on her; all except for Dean's. He'd already returned his attention back to the paper splayed out in front of him.

Gulping and ignoring the rumbling in the pit of her stomach, Amy ambled over to the group with Garrett shadowing her.

"What's that?" She questioned examining the map.

"Every single attack on a hunter in the last few weeks." Sam explained.

Out of morbid curiosity her gaze wandered over to the state of Indiana and, sure enough, there was a red spot marking Griffin.

"Dean figures they're working in two groups; sweeping the country east to west and west to east." Sam continued.

Out of the corner of her eye, Amy checked on Dean. He remained hunched over the table, staring at the map intensely.

"That don't make sense." Garrett piped up and Dean's eyes snapped at the Texan.

"And why's that?" He didn't try to hide the disgust in his voice.

"First hit was in Salt Lake City, the second in Bakersfield, California." Garrett stated matter-of-factly, unfazed by Dean's glower.

"Ok, boy wonder. Do _you_ have any bright theories?"

Garrett met Dean's challenge with ease and a shrug.

"Nope. Just sayin', it don't seem like there're just two groups."

Sam stiffened, noticing the twitching in his brother's jaw. It was never a good sign. It usually preceded some sort of violent outburst, most frequently a straight right followed by a hard left hook.

If Garrett knew what was good for him, he'd shut up.

He didn't.

"Plus they've got different MO's. Slice and dice jobs in Portland and Tacoma, single shots to the head around Fresno. On the east coast, places got burned down in Albany, Scranton and Yonkers. In the south-"

"What's your point?" Dean cut him off, growing impatient.

"Different MO's, different groups."

"Ok, so more than two... And? Still doesn't give us squat."

Sensing the escalating tension between the two men, Bobby stepped in:

"Let's calm down and try to think about this."

"What if they're not killin' random hunters?"

"What're you talkin' about?" Dean's snarl made Amy fidget.

"What if they're lookin' for somethin'?" Garrett let his question linger before his eyes pointedly zoomed in on Sam. "Or _someone_...?"

At that Dean stood to his full height. Along with everyone else's, his wide eyes focused on Sam.

Shit! He was right. The kid was right.

Dead silence caved in all around them as everyone in the room came to the same realization. It stretched mercilessly until Luke finally intervened:

"Makes sense. Dudley heard about the last seal from these whack jobs." He scanned the faces surrounding him and added: "They think Sam started it. They're probably going through hunters till they find him."

"Son of a bitch!" The older Winchester roared without warning, causing Amy to jolt.

She watched him take a step back and run a fretful hand over his mouth. He shuffled his feet and dragged his fingers through his ruffled hair before coming to an abrupt decision. When he spoke, it was flat, concise and left no room for dispute:

"Everyone pack your stuff. We're leavin'."

"Where're we going?" Reggie emerged from the back of the bar.

"Nowhere."

Dean glowered at Ellen but with little consequence; the female hunter remained unaltered by the intensity of his stare as she stated plainly:

"You two should go. I'm not leaving."

"Ellen…" Bobby tried to reason with her and was swiftly cut off by a stern:

"No. I've already had one bar burned down. I'll be damned if I'm gonna let that happen again. No one's kickin' me out of my home."

"Ellen, if you stay here, they-" Dean's attempt to convince her was immediately thwarted.

"No! End of discussion."

She didn't give him a chance to rebuttal, turning on her heels and disappearing into the back room.

"Shit!" Dean growled out his frustration.

Why did all the women in his life have to be so god damn stubborn?

"What?" Amy squeaked defensively when Dean's accusing scowl fell on her. "What did _I_ do?"

'_Women!'_

"Dean, we can't leave. Not without Ellen… it's not safe…" Sam stepped in.

"I'll try to talk some sense into her." Bobby offered, retreating to the kitchen.

"What do we do now?" Garrett questioned.

"Pack up. Guns, ammo, knives, take everything you can." Dean commanded, back on track.

He'd deal with Ellen later and if she insisted on this pigheaded idea of hers he'd just bind and gag her. He'd drag her out of that Roadhouse with his bare hands if push came to shove. He was not going to leave anyone behind.

"What about my car?" Reggie asked. "I gotta change the-"

"Leave it. We got three we can take."

"I'm not leaving my car!" The blonde protested adamantly.

"I don't have time for this. Just leave it! We'll come back for it if we can."

"No way! I'm not-"

"Reg…"

The way he said her name sent a chill running down her spine but she stood her ground.

"It's my car." She countered obstinately.

Dean wasn't listening. Reggie let out a frustrated sigh, folding her arms across her chest. She knew him well enough to know that butting heads with him wasn't going to get her anywhere. Reluctantly, she changed strategies and went with groveling:

"Come on. It's a 10 minute drive to Sheldonville… Tops! Dean, it's my baby…" And then she brought on the big guns: "You wouldn't leave the Impala."

She saw the change in him and mentally padded herself on the back for her cunningness. After some pondering Dean begrudgingly relented:

"Ok. Fine. Just be quick about it."

Reggie beamed and triumphantly strutted over to him. He furrowed his brow at her outstretched hand.

"What?"

"Keys."

He cocked his head.

"Come again?"

"I can't walk to Sheldonville, can I?" She mimicked him by tilting her head sideways.

Dean snickered caustically:

"In your dreams."

"Oh, come on." Reggie whined.

"Forget it, sweetheart. I'm not letting you anywhere near _my_ baby." On this, Dean was unwavering.

The woman drove like a maniac. It hurt just to picture her behind the wheel.

"Then let Sam drive."

Sam jumped to attention at the suggestion, drawing Amy's quizzical gaze. She frowned; her curiosity peeked by the unexpected jolt. After the initial surprise, he tried to hide this discomfort. Like a fish out of water, his mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he locked his jaw into place. To conceal his squirming hands he shoved them deep into the front pockets, bringing his shoulders in. But his evasive moves hadn't been fast enough. The idea of being stuck in a car alone with _her_ clearly made him uncomfortable. Why?

"No."

Dean's voice pulled Amy out of her musings.

"I'll take you. I don't want Sam out there alone."

It was Amy's turn to rebel against the suggestion, but despite the prickling in her skin she didn't say anything.

"He won't be alone." Reggie pointed out.

"I'm driving." There was no deterring him from this decision. "Go get cleaned up. I'll meet you outside in five."

Amy watched his retreating form, swallowing back the acid that tried to crawl its way into her mouth.

Twenty minutes became thirty which, in turn, stretched into an hour and then two more after that. Sitting at one of the tables, Amy checked her wristwatch for the fifth time in as many minutes.

"Somethin' on your mind, hun?"

Ellen's voice made her look up from the timepiece. The bar owner stood in front of her holding out a beer.

With a tight smile, Amy accepted the offer bringing the bottle to her lips for a quip sip.

"Nah…"

"Staring out the window ain't gonna bring them back any sooner." Ellen informed with a knowing smirk.

"That's not what I was doing." Amy was a terrible liar.

Taking a gulp of her own drink, she settled down on the adjacent chair. Amy fought the urge to say something else. She knew it would only make her anxiety over the couples delay even more obvious if she did. So she bit her lip and endured the silence. She busied herself by examining Sam as his fingers glided diligently over the keyboard of his laptop. He had remained uncharacteristically mute since Dean and Reggie had left. The image of him fidgeting still nagged her.

Amy took pride on her ability to read people. She wasn't as good as Sam or Dean, but then again they were professionals when it came to spotting odd behavior. She was losing her touch, probably due to the fact that her brain seemed to be permanently fixed on one person in particular to notice anyone else. That would explain why she hadn't picked up on Sam's discomfort around Reggie before. She would make sure to keep a vigilant eye on that from now on.

"She's a bit… unusual, but a damn good hunter." Ellen didn't have to say her name. Amy knew who she was referring to. "You just have to get used to her… quirks."

"Quirks, right…" Amy snorted, guzzling down the beer.

Her facial muscles contorted, protesting against the freezing beverage flowing its way down to her empty stomach.

Within hearing range, Garrett decided to join in on the conversation:

"Who are we talkin' about?"

"_We_?" Ellen sent him a pointed look, which Garrett promptly ignored.

"Yeah."

"None of your business." Ellen scolded. "Don't you have some packin' to do?"

"All done." Garrett grinned proudly.

"Where's Bobby?" She was clearly trying to get him to butt out.

Garrett pretended not to get the message.

"Basement, with Luke. Doin' inventory." He shrugged, stubbornly taking a place around the women's table. "You girls talkin' about Reggie?"

"Did you just call me girl?" Ellen scowled at him and this time Garret went rigid.

"N-no, ma'am."

His eyes dropped instantly. When he looked back up, she was still glaring at him, making him squirm a bit.

"So… Reggie?" He tried to make small talk. "I like her."

"Of course you would, you got a penis, don't you?" Amy sneered disdainfully, while Sam shifted awkwardly in his seat giving away the fact that he'd been eavesdropping.

"I need a smoke." She announced, leaving her bottle on the table as she stood up. "You wanna keep me company?"

Sam looked up from the screen and after a beat and a frown agreed:

"Sure."

The two stepped onto the dimly lit back porch. With the cigarette ready between her lips, Amy brought the flickering lighter to her mouth and inhaled deeply. When she breathed out the thick smoke drifted from her mouth to wane into the darkness surrounding the Roadhouse. She leaned against the wooden railing and braced herself against the chilly night air.

"So…" Sam started while she took a second drag. "Why the invite?"

Her lower lip jutted out and her shoulders came together in feigned innocence.

"Just wanted some company."

He wasn't convinced.

"Ok, you got me." Amy gave him a half-smirk and he smiled back.

"How are you doing?"

He became immediately solemn.

"'bout what?" He stalled.

"Come on, Sam…" She coaxed him.

After a moment he muttered:

"I'm ok… I guess."

"You sure?"

His nod was unenthusiastic.

"So? No self-flagellation?"

He couldn't help smiling a bit.

"No."

"No brooding?"

"No."

"Good." She pulled another drag into her lungs and caught the disapproving glance he sent her. "Oh, God…" Amy groaned. "Not you too."

"What?"

"You're giving me the look."

"What look?"

"The '_smoking is bad'_ look. I already get that from everyone in this place… _especially_ your brother. I don't need you jumping on that bandwagon." To make her point she took another puff.

Sam seized the opportunity to deflect the attention from himself.

"What about you?"

"Huh?"

"How are things with you and… _my_ _brother_?" The way she'd avoided saying Dean's name hadn't gone by unnoticed.

"Things are… fine. We're fine."

"Fine, huh? Funny how you and Dean use that word a lot when you don't want to talk about something." Sam noted with a hint of mischief.

Amy glared up at him. It failed to have the desired effect.

"Giving me the evil eye isn't gonna make me stop asking." He pushed.

"I'll tell you what… How about you and I establish a _'don't ask, don't tell_' policy?"

Her cocky reply caught him off guard and Sam looked at her quizzically.

"You don't ask me about _your_ _brother_…" She paused. "…and I don't ask you about _Reggie_. How's that?"

Sam stiffened instantly and his eyes grew wide.

"W-what do you mean Reggie? Wha-what does she have to do with-?"

"You sure you wanna go there, Sammy?" Her mouth pulled up for a lopsided grin and he gulped.

He should have known better. When it came to Dean Winchester, Amy's claws came out.

"I'm thinking… right about now, '_don't ask, don't tell_' sounds pretty good."

"Yeah, it-it does." He stuttered out his agreement between stifled gasps.

"Isn't it?" She flashed her pearly whites like a Cheshire cat and he was struck by the intense desire to get the hell out of there.

"It's getting kinda chilly out here. Maybe we should…" He nodded toward the door.

Amy's grin grew wider. He looked so darn cute when he was nervous. The panicky eyebrow wiggling, combined with the way he tripped over his own words gave him an air of childlike goofiness that was just adorable.

"You go ahead. I'm gonna finish up." She said mercifully, lifting her hand to signal the half-smoked cylinder of tobacco.

"Ok…"

He whirled around and in his haste almost plowed through Garrett, who was exiting the bar. The collision had little if any impact on Sam. The same could not be said about the dirty blond though. The Texan was taller and better-built than most men by any standard. But the _standard_ didn't really apply to Sam Winchester. Anyone looked puny when standing next to him.

Garrett was too busy shaking himself out of his stupor to hear Sam's mumbled apology as the gawky hunter scrambled past him and into the safety of the Roadhouse.

When his sight cleared Garrett took a deep breath and turned to Amy. His brows knitted in confusion at the softness irradiating from her face. For the first time in a long while she looked… peaceful. She stared off into the distance with the sweetest of half-smiles curling her lips to the side. Curious to find the source of this change he followed her gaze beyond the glass of the nearby window. On the other side, Sam was ambling around inside the bar.

A gush of wind blew by and Amy shrank further against the railing.

"Here, take this." He quickly stripped off his plaid shirt and handed it to her.

"I'm fine. I-Garrett I don't-"

Despite her protests he pulled the flannel around her and secured it in place by fastening the middle button over her chest.

"I'm not cold." She rolled her eyes up at him and began taking off the item.

His puppy-dog look made her cave in. Exhaling loudly, she slipped her arms into the shirt and wrapped it around herself. She had to admit it felt nice. She'd always loved the feel of flannel.

"Thanks."

"Welcome…"

Seconds filtered by before he questioned:

"How long have you and Sam known each other?"

"Since we were kids. He was six, I was nine." She replied, finally looking away from the window.

"That's a long time. You know him pretty well, huh?" Garrett probed.

"Not really. We fell out of touch when we were teenagers. Only saw him again last year." Amy stopped there, unwilling to go into details.

She really didn't need to relive the events that had led to…

"How come you're on his side then… after what he did?"

Amy's face went rigid.

"He didn't know."

"Yeah, about the seal but-"

She cut him off right then and there with a curt:

"Trust me, Garrett. He's one of the good guys." She paused, letting her words sink in.

When she spoke again her tone had returned to normal, laced with hints of compassion:

"He just… got lost for a while."

"Lost? That's an understatement." He puffed disdainfully and she threw him an accusing glare.

"Haven't you ever made a mistake?"

"Sure." He readily admitted. "But mistakes that kick start the Apocalypse? No. Not lately."

She didn't want to listen to it anymore. Pushing herself off the railing she started a livid stride in the direction of the door. Garrett stepped into her path, blocking her passage, regret marring his features.

"I didn't mean to get under your skin."

Amy tried to hold onto the wave of annoyance that had washed over her at his previous comment. She couldn't. His doe-eyes and apologetic pout drained all the fury out of her.

"I'm sorry, ok?"

He was relieved to see her lips stretch as she shook her head at him.

"Just don't go there again, 'kay?"

Garrett nodded, beaming down at her.

"No bad-mouthing Sam. I mean it." She poked her finger into his chest to stress her point.

"Scouts honor."

Seemingly content with the outcome of their conversation, Amy threw the burned out cigarette into the night.

"Come on. Let's go. Dinner's probably ready."

"Wait."

Amy looked at him quizzically when she felt his hand on her forearm.

"What is it?"

"Let's hang out here for a bit."

"Why?"

"I thought maybe we could… you know… talk."

His hands were in his pockets and his left foot was twitching. He was nervous.

'_Why?_'

"We can talk inside. It's freezing out here." Amy pointed out, distrustful of his intentions.

She didn't like this. What was he up to?

"Yeah, but out here we have… privacy." As he uttered the last word he closed the distance between them and she was forced to crane her neck to meet his jittery eyes.

"Garrett…?"

Amy jumped back when he leaned into her.

"What do you think you're doing?!" She didn't mean to yell, but his move had caught her off guard.

Man, she sounded pissed. In reality, her shouting was spurred on by shock rather than anger.

Garrett didn't know what to do with himself. He panicked.

"I'm so-"

"Did you just try to kiss me?!"


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

With a sigh Sam propped his elbows on the counter.

"You ok?"

He glanced over his shoulder. Sitting at one of the tables next to a mute Luke, Bobby allowed his eyes to scrutinize the young man's face.

"Sure." Sam added a closed-mouth smile to his reply.

Though the old hunter was unconvinced, he'd had enough experience with the Winchester boys to know when it was time to push and when to back up. This situation called for the latter approach.

With a million questions buzzing in his mind, Sam's blind stare idly followed Ellen around as she wiped down the various tables.

How had Amy noticed? Was he being that obvious? And what exactly was he being obvious about? After all… What was this? Why did _she_ make him so nervous? He'd never been comfortable around Reggie. That was a given. Ever since they'd been kids… One glance from her and he'd tense up. He'd learned to deal with it, make it manageable. That is… until the last few weeks. Now, she didn't even have to be in the room. All it took was the mention of her name and he'd be instantly covered in goose bumps.

He was pulled out of his musing by the familiar rumbling of a 67 Impala. It wasn't long before Reggie and Dean were stepping into the Roadhouse.

"Hey." Sam greeted, making sure to focus on his brother.

Despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop his brain from keeping tabs on Reggie's amblings.

With fluid, catlike sluggishness she strolled over to the counter. She stretched her body against the wooden surface about two feet from where he sat, sending his senses into overdrive when her scent reached him.

"Did you get the parts you needed?" He asked, desperately attempting to ignore the prickling on his skin.

"Yep." Reggie grinned widely.

'_Don't look at her.'_

"It's about damn time." Ellen grumbled. She finishing up cleaning the tables and flung the bit of cloth over her shoulder. "Dinner's ready. I want everybody's butt around the kitchen table in five."

Dean waited for her to exit the room before he turned to Bobby.

"Did you talk to her?"

"No deal."

Dean growled, spurting the bearded man to add defensively:

"I gave it my best shot. She won't budge."

"Maybe Jo can drill some sense into that thick skull of hers." Dean muttered. "Any word on her?"

"She called. Should be poppin' up any minute now." Bobby informed.

"Ellen's been in a lousy mood since you guys left. You shoulda seen her… She ripped Garrett a new one just for leaving his gun out on the bar." Sam winced at the memory.

Dean let out a frustrated sigh and scanned the area. Only the Texan and Amy were missing, yet he inquired only after the former.

"Where's the kid?"

"Smokin' on the back porch." Sam explained, getting up.

Amy wasn't blind. She could tell the kid had a thing for her. She'd always known; he wasn't sneaky about it. For his, as much as for her own sake, she pretended not to notice the constant ogling, the lingering stares or his swaggering, yet disastrous, advances toward her. When they weren't over the top, she found them endearing, adorable even.

On the other hand, she couldn't deny he'd scored the jackpot in the genetic draw. He was tall and wide-shouldered, with shaggy hair, gorgeous baby blues and full pale lips. All he needed was time. Once the years hollowed out his cheeks to expose the chiseled bones hidden underneath and he'd had enough time to perfect his flirting technique, he'd be able to reel in any girl he wanted. Amy had little doubt about that.

But in her mind, he would forever be that smug fifteen year-old who'd landed at her doorstep and had tried to make a move on her while his uncle was nursing his wounds in the next room.

"Well?!" She demanded at a gaping Garrett.

"Amy, I-"

"What were you _thinking_?" She shrieked.

"I lov-"

Her eyes bugged out.

"Don't even _try_ to finish that sentence! For God's sake, Garrett! It's a crush!" Amy scolded.

"No, it ain't! I've been in _love_ with-"

"What do you know about love, kid?" It came out more condescending than she'd intended and his jaw instantly stiffened.

"Don't call me that." He gritted.

Shouting hadn't worked. Maybe if she tried a different approach; tried to reason with him… Amy took a soothing breath and began in a lower, contained tone:

"Look, you're young and you might think that what you're feeling right now is-"

"Don't patronize me. If I'm old enough to get shot at, I sure as hell am old enough to know what I feel. And I _know_ I love you."

Amy snapped:

"Will you quit saying that?!? Jesus!"

Every time he did, she mentally cringed. It was just too weird.

"It's true!"

"No, it isn't!"

Anxiety and the sting of rejection twisted his facial muscles into a painful grimace and the knowledge that she was the cause of it made her want to shrivel up with guilt.

He was pulling shallow pants into his constricted chest. Seeing the pity in her eyes only made it worse.

"It isn't…" This time it was soft. "Garrett…"

She analyzed every inch of his face.

"One day you're gonna meet someone… Someone your own age and then you'll…"

"You're talkin' like you're my mom's age." His voice faltered. "It's eight years, Amy."

Maybe logic would make him see the absurdity of it all.

"Ok, let's put this in perspective. You just turned twenty one, right?"

"What are you getting at?"

"Just follow me on this one. Eight years, ok? That would be the same as you hooking up… with a thirteen year old."

She let him do the math.

"Don't you find that a little…" She searched for the right euphemism. "…strange?"

"It ain't the same thing."

"It's _exactly_ the same, Garrett."

"No, it ain't. I'm a man and you're a-"

"Garrett…"

She kept saying his name; a punch to the gut, every single time.

Amy paused, looked him straight in the eyes and delivered the final blow.

"… I don't see you that way."

"So, I'm just a dumb kid, that it?" He sneered and waited for her reply.

She had none. Her silence was enough.

He tried to turn and leave. She wouldn't allow him. She made him face her. When he refused to meet her gaze Amy tugged at his arm.

Over the next couple of minutes, the cricketing coming from the shrubbery and Garrett's labored breathing were the only sounds heard on the porch.

Gradually, she felt the flexed muscles beneath her fingers relax as he came to terms with her decision.

"Are we ok?" She asked after a while.

He nodded, but she needed him to say it.

"Garrett. Are we ok?"

"Yeah." He sounded disgruntled.

She let go of him and proceeded to take off the shirt he'd lent her. It didn't feel right having it on her.

"Keep it. Looks good on you."

She struggled to smile and wished he would join in. He didn't. He just stared blankly at her. After a while, he uttered weakly:

"It's 'cause of him, isn't it?"

Her heart skipped a beat.

"Huh?" She burbled, buying her brain enough time to come up with a response that didn't raise suspicion.

'_Just stay calm. He doesn't know anything. He's bluffing.'_

"Dean…"

'_Oh, shit.'_

"Um... Wha'?"

He slanted his head at her and she had to make a conscious effort to keep from wriggling.

"I see the way you two look at each other."

"Yeah… What about it?" She shrugged and jutted out her chin nonchalantly.

"Amy, I got eyes…"

"Good for you. So?" She replied brusquely.

She hated feeling cornered.

"So…" He trailed off to give her a poignant look. "…you like him."

"Puff! You're delusional." Her scoff was pathetically false, but at least the eye-roll gave her a chance to escape his dissecting stare, if only for just a moment.

"And he likes you too."

At that she snapped back to attention and gulped dryly.

"Wha'? No! Puff, I… he and I… we don't… we had some… um… But we don't anymore. I mean, I don't… we're not… um…"

Jesus! She was babbling like an idiot, blinking and stuttering her way through fragmented sentences. The amount of anxiety she was in was actually beginning to cause her physical pain. She had to put an end to this. Abruptly, she shut her mouth. She fixed her eyes on Garrett, took a deep breath and blurted:

"Can we not talk about this?"

If he'd had any doubts before, there were none left now. He'd never seen her this rattled. It surprised him.

"Boy, you really _do_ like him, don't you?"

All she could do was shake her head in dismay. Why couldn't he just drop it?

"And not just like, but… Like like. _Really_ like."

"What part of _not talking about it_ did you have trouble with?"

Too shocked to take in the murderous glare, he gawked at her.

"Wow…"

"Garrett, if you don't shut up right now, I'm gonna have to hurt you. A lot."

Her eyes widened menacingly at him and he finally got the message.

"Ok, backing off now." He held both hands in the air and literally stepped back. Dropping his arms, he made sure to hold her gaze as he carried on: "Sorry. It's just… I kinda figured you had a thing for the guy. I didn't know you lo-"

"Garrett!" She screeched in horror.

"Sorry!"

"Let's just go, ok?" She grumbled, shuffling toward the door.

"Oh, come on, Amy. Don't be like that…" He walked into her path. "I said I was sorry."

"And I heard you."

She tried to sidestep him but he towered in front of her.

"You gonna sulk?"

"I don't sulk." She pouted.

"Yeah, you do. And you look darn cute doin' it too."

She narrowed her eyes and his smirk grew into a full-blown grin. Man, it was fun to push her buttons.

"_Very_ cute." He repeated impishly.

"That's it! I'm going in!"

"No, no, no, no…" He hastily grabbed both her shoulders to keep her from leaving and waited until she stopped wrestling against his grip. Once she did, he bent down to meet her eyes. "I'm not gonna say anything. Ok? Promise."

After ten seconds of intense staring, Amy took notice of the gradual change in him. His expression went from awe, to acknowledgement to… nostalgia? Regret? Whatever it was it unnerved her.

"What?!" She scowled.

Despite being repeatedly shot down, up until that precise moment, Garrett had harbored the secret hope that one day she'd wake up and miraculously it would hit her that he was the guy for her.

Watching her almost completely fall apart at the mere mention of Dean forced him to review the last few days in his mind's eye.

The expression on her face when he'd told her about Dean's return; the way she'd charged out of her house like a mad woman and raced over to the Roadhouse; the tension permanently lodged between her shoulder blades whenever _he _was in the same room… All of these memories now fit together like pieces of a puzzle. And though he didn't like the picture they formed, he couldn't ignore it.

If you asked Garrett when it had happened, he wouldn't be able to tell you. Whether it had been a year ago or from the first time the two had laid eyes on each other, he didn't know…. But the one thing he could tell you? Somewhere along the way, Amy Carrington had fallen in love with Dean Winchester… and there was no erasing that fact.

He kept gaping at her. She could almost hear the wheels turn in his head. If only she could grasp the reasoning behind the noise.

"What?" She barked again, agitated.

He'd never have a shot with her. Ever…

"I'm sorry."

"You said that already." She snorted.

He exuded a strange calm now.

He'd made a decision.

"No. Not because of that."

Amy didn't even have time to send him a decent frown.

"Because of this."

Before she knew what was happening, the hands on her shoulders locked on both side of her face to haul her in. Her eyebrows shot up. His mouth was suddenly pressed against hers.

By the time her wedged brain finally rebooted, the kiss was over.

She stood there, bugged out eyes, hunched forward, frozen in an awkward position, flushed cheeks comically squashed against his cradling palms.

His heart drummed a vicious rhythm and Garrett watched her intensely, waiting, prepared for the inevitable violent outburst.

'_Boy… you are so gonna get bitch slapped.'_

He figured he was in for either a blow to the stomach or a kick to the nuts.

'_Please go for the gut. Please…'_

When neither came, he hesitantly pulled back and released her face, all the while remaining vigilant of her movements. She was a sneaky one. There was no way she was gonna let him get away with this.

But the seconds ticked away stridently and still she failed to give him the adequate response.

This wasn't good.

'_Not good at all.'_

"I-I did say I was sorry." He quickly reminded her, dreading the moment she would snap out of the shock.

Nothing.

Garrett began to worry.

"Amy… you ok?"

And then the flood gates opened and in three seconds flat she had him doubled over, one hand on his stomach the other between his legs, fighting to keep his balance.

He'd been wrong though.

She did, in fact, go for the stomach… _and_ the family jewels, but not before distracting him with a slap on the head. The move had caught him off guard and while he nursed his aching skull she'd seized the opportunity to strike his solar plexus and then deliver a knee to his crotch.

"Jesus Christ, Amy!" He wheezed. "Fu… Shit, that hurt… Ah! Gee, it was just a lousy kiss."

Amy was unfazed by his suffering. He'd gotten what he deserved.

"Don't _ever_ pull that one on me again. Got it?"

With that, she stomped out of the porch and into the Roadhouse, leaving a groaning Garrett to lick his wounds.

She was fuming. If she'd stayed out there for another millisecond she couldn't be held responsible for Garrett's wellbeing. Or lack of.

How dare he? She was gonna… Aargh! She was-

Amy's vengeful thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a noise in the darkened hallway.

She jumped and let out a shriek. Clumsily, she whirled around to collide against a solid chest. She looked up. It was almost pitch-black, but even if she hadn't recognized the sharp eyes partially masked by the shadows, she would always be able to tell it was him. Always...

Dean towered over her and she staggered back a step.

"God!" She panted, wiping her clammy palms against the flannel shirt. "You scared the bejesus out of me."

She forced on a weak smile, but he seemed unmoved by it.

"Dinner's ready."

That was all he said before walking away from her.

* * *

Amy and Garrett entered the kitchen to find all the remaining residents of the Roadhouse gathered around a large table. Ellen and Dean sat at the heads, while Sam, Luke and Bobby filed along one of the sides. There were only two places left, next to Reggie.

Under Ellen's scolding glower, the two promptly shuffled over to the empty chairs. Head bowed, Amy wedged herself between Reggie and Garrett and the clutter of forks and knives against white ceramic resumed.

Half-heartedly, she filled her plate with the available food and began eating. Her fluttering stomach grudgingly accepted the rice and chicken that she swallowed passed a clenching throat.

Like clockwork, every two minutes, she'd chance a quick glance in Dean's direction. He didn't look up once. He didn't utter a work. He just kept his eyes buried in his meal and angrily shoveled food into his mouth.

Had he seen it? The kiss? If so, he had to have witnessed her reaction too. He had to know it wasn't her fault, right? Garret had just grabbed her out of the blue. How was she supposed to know he was gonna plant one on her? Dean couldn't blame her for this? Could he?

Amy's mind raced frantically, as if it was trying to match the absurd rhythm of her pulse.

Or maybe she was reading too much into this, like a self-absorbed idiot. Maybe Dean's grumpy mood had nothing to do with her. After all, he did have a whole lot of other, definitely more important things, to worry about. Things like the apocalypse or the fact that basically every hunter in the country was out for their heads, not to mention a bunch of religious loonies, three fries short of a Happy Meal, gunning for his little brother.

'_Of course this isn't about _you_. Get your head out of your ass.'_

'_God! I'm such a schmuck.' _She chastised herself.

Unbeknownst to Amy, on the opposite side of the table, a frustrated Sam shared her state of heightened-anxiety, though for different reasons.

His senses seemed intent on making his life miserable. No matter how hard he tried to tune them out, they insisted on providing him with every bit of information coming from the hunter sitting across from him.

And just when he was getting used to the sensory overload, Reggie decided to shift. Her foot brushed against his calf, sending an instant electric shock along his leg, straight to his spine, causing him to abruptly jerk up in his chair.

Fretfully, he looked around and, sure enough, he had seven pairs of furrowed brows locked in on him, even Dean's.

'_Great!'_

He met his brother's wordless _'What was _that_ about?'_ with a pathetic, oops!-shrug. It clearly wasn't enough to satisfy Dean's curiosity, because he was still staring.

"Back spasm." Sam mumbled the excuse.

It took a while but, eventually, everyone returned to what they'd been previously doing.

Sam was just about to do the same, when his eyes accidentally landed on the one face he didn't need to see - Reggie's. The stifled chuckle trapped between her pursed lips made him gulp and drop his gaze to his plate.

'_Shit!... Shit, shit, shit, sh-!'_

His cursing mantra was interrupted by Elton John's voice:

_Tread on my face if you like little lady  
Turn me inside out if you have to baby_

Panic and intense discomfort was spreading around the table like wildfire and it was now Garrett's turn in the hot seat. Stuck in the spotlight, the Texan desperately tried to fish out his cell phone from the back pocket of his jeans.

Though clearly thankful for the diversion, Sam couldn't help worrying about his brother's reaction. He glanced at him sideways and much to his surprise, Dean didn't even blink.

He checked on Amy. She too was unaffected by the kid's choice of ringtone.

This was a good thing, right?

"No cell-phones at the table." Ellen issued the order flatly.

"Sorry." Garrett garbled, continuing his search for the illusive device and becoming more and more agitated as it dragged on.

_I am young and I ain't never been kissed  
Never been kissed by a lady called Amy_

Once that last line was sung, two things happened. One, Amy's fork stopped mid-journey to her gaping mouth as she froze. And two, Dean's wall of nonchalance finally opened up a crack.

Though the first event was quite obvious to all, Sam was probably the only one to pick up on the second. It was subtle, but to the younger of the Winchester's the muffled growl coming from his right was booming.

"Take that outside." Ellen grumbled and Garrett hastily complied, throwing an apologetic '_Excuse me'_ on his way out.

The sound of a second chair dragging along the floorboards caught Ellen's attention and she zeroed in on Dean.

"And where do _you_ think you're goin'?"

"I'm finished." The rage was barely contained.

"We're still eatin'."

"I'm not."

"Young man, you better park your ass down on that chair. Now!"

Her dictatorial attitude was the last drop.

"Or what?!" His blatant defiance made Sam squirm in his seat. "I'm not some snot-nosed kid you can boss around, Ellen."

Before she could reply, Garrett returned. Pale as a sheet and with beads of sweat coating his forehead he announced:

"Huff Morris is dead." He paused.

Gathering from the expression surrounding her, Amy figured they all knew the deceased.

"He lives down in Kansas City." Bobby supplied grimly.

"That's only a half-a-day's drive from here." Luke joined in on the conversation.

"Yeah, if you're cruising for chicks, maybe." Reggie snorted, trying to disguise her apprehension over the news.

"That's it. We're goin'." Dean made sure he was holding Ellen's gaze when he added: "All of us."

"What about Jo?" Sam questioned.

"We'll call her and tell her to meet us on the road." Dean decided.

"I'm not going."

"Like hell you're not!"

Sam's eyes widened - Dean had actually yelled at Ellen.

"You're coming with us, even if I gotta tie you to the back of the Impala."

Ellen slit her eyes at him challengingly.

"I'd like to see you try, boy."

Dean began trudging his way around the table and Sam pounced.

"Wait!"

Dean pointedly glared at the halting hand on his shoulder and then at Sam. The two exchanged a look that seemed to sooth the older sibling for the time being.

"Ellen…" Sam started; full-on puppy-dog mode. "Think about it…"

"No, I'm _not_ leaving." She dropped her cutlery and stood up.

"Do you really believe Jo's gonna come with us if she knows you're here? Alone?"

"I'll tell her not to." She insisted. "She'll listen to me."

But the seed of doubt was planted in the woman's mind and Bobby seized the opportunity to make it thrive:

"Come on, El. She hasn't listened to you in a long time. You know that girl, she's a mule."

"Like her mom." Dean scoffed.

Ellen glowered at him and Sam teethed:

"Dude. So not helpin' right now."

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Ellen…" Sam turned his pleading eyes to her again. "It's just a bar. It's still gonna be here when this is all over."

She pondered for a beat before giving in:

"It better."

At her words of capitulation there was a resounding sense of relief throughout the room.

Within half an hour, four cars were driving down the gravelly road, leaving the empty Roadhouse in their rearview mirrors.


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

The Road Runner jostled violently as it veered into the hard right turn with excess speed. Amy's grasp on the handle tightened and the already taut muscles protested against the added strain. She'd been clutching at the door since they'd left the Roadhouse and hadn't let go of it once.

Up until three hours ago, she'd labeled Dean as the most reckless driver she'd encountered. That title now belonged to someone else because, when it came to neck-breaking speeds and suicidal driving skills, Dean Winchester had nothing on Regina Becker.

Amy bit her tongue, about to finally say something, when the flickering of bright yellow letters caught her attention. The neon sign that appeared as they rounded the corner was a beckon of hope. It signaled the end of this torture.

"Is that it?" Amy questioned, careful not to let her anxiety filter into her voice.

These were the first words uttered in the car by either of the two women.

"I think so." Reggie replied off-handedly.

She took a drag from her cigarette and Amy was gripped with the urge to ring her scrawny little neck.

That was her seventh; seven cigarettes.

Yes, Amy was counting. And why? Because in the last three God forsaken hours Amy herself had had exactly zero. Not one smoke. And why?

'_Because you can't freakin' light up when you're holding onto dear life!'_

Zen exercises didn't exactly work on Amy, but she gave them a shot anyway. Inhaling deeply through her nose, she exhaled through an 'O'-shaped mouth and the murderous thoughts dimmed a bit. Not so much due to the breathing but because they were overshadowed by a nagging doubt - If this was the motel they'd agreed to stay for the night… and if it was just two hundred yards away… then…

'_Why are we still going at 100 mph?'_

Amy gaped at Reggie. One second… The motel kept coming closer and closer… Two seconds… And the car _still_ wasn't slowing down…

'_Ok… I'd say right about now would be a good time to put those breaks to good use…'_

Amy's mental coaxing had no effect on the driver.

Was she blind? No. That couldn't be it! No matter how impaired GI Jane's vision might have been, it was kinda hard to miss the giant building straight ahead!

'_Oh, God… We're gonna crash!'_

Was she in some kind of trance? Possessed, maybe?

'_Oh, my God!'_

The woman was insane!

'_This is it… I'm gonna die.' _

After all that she'd been through, this was how she was gonna go? By crashing into some sleazy motel? Life was so unfair!

'_Ohgod, ohgod, ohgod…'_

She braced herself and prepared for the inevitable collision when, unexpectedly, the Road Runner let out a high-pitch shriek. At Reggie's command the Plymouth gripped the road avariciously, the sudden change of speed violently propelling Amy forward. The poor car whined and jerked all the way, coming to a full stop twenty inches shy of the porch that ran along the front of the motel.

Slamming back into her seat, Amy shakily pushed her disheveled hair away from her flushed face and gawked at the woman sitting to her left. Reggie, however, appeared to be blissfully unaware of her companion's state of unrest. Without a care in the world, she popped opened the door and stepped out. A languorous moan slipped from her lips, stretching her arms over her head.

As for Amy, she was still inside, struggling to regain full motor control over her trembling legs. She waited and only exited the car once she was sure her knees weren't going to buckle under her weight.

She shot Reggie a dirty look, which was once again dismissed, since the hunter was busy checking the road behind them. A smirk lit her face when the familiar headlights of a 67 Chevy Impala came into view. Amy's heart skipped a beat while Reggie swaggered over to the black car. She leaned on the hood and smugly crossed her arms over her chest.

"Time is catchin' up with you, old man. Looked like you were driving Miss Daisy back there." Reggie's jeering was directed at Dean.

He swung the door closed and arched an eyebrow at her.

"And you drive like a lunatic." He snorted, brushing past her and into the motel.

"Hey." Sam greeted the two women.

Amy replied with a nod while Reggie served Sam a Cheshire grin that caused him to instantly drop his gaze and recoil his hands into the safety of his jacket.

"I-I'll see if Dean needs some help." He stammered, awkwardly walking off.

By the time the two brothers were back the last two cars of their convoy were in the parking lot. Not bothering with the formality of greetings or asking for opinions, Dean began handing out the corresponding keys as he spoke:

"We got four rooms, 5 through 8. Sammy and I'll take 5, Reggie and Carrington you take 6."

'_Oh, goodie, I get to be roommates with psycho-Barbie. How swell!'_

The fact that Dean strategically sidestepped her in order to give Reggie their room key didn't go by unnoticed by Amy.

"Garrett and Luke'll stay in room 7 and - Ellen and Bobby - you get number 8."

With the exception of Amy, no one seemed to have a problem with the arrangement, and all eight filed out of the parking lot and headed for their rooms.

* * *

Once settled into their accommodations, Amy eyed Reggie. Something was bothering her. She looked impatient, walking in circles, fumbling with the belt loops of her denim shorts.

"You nervous or something?" Amy eventually questioned, having had enough of this restless pacing.

"Nah, I'm ok." Reggie attempted to sound casual, even adding her trademark smirk to her statement.

Amy was unconvinced.

"Just need a bit of air." The blonde picked up her leather jacket and threw it over her shoulder before leaving the room. "I'll be right back."

* * *

Sam pulled back the curtains draped over the window, revealing the extra parking space between Reggie's Road Runner and Bobby's truck.

_Right back._

That's what Dean had said - he'd be _right_ back.

He let out a sigh. This was just like his big brother, to up and leave without telling anyone where he was going. Knowing Dean, Sam figured he'd left in search of the nearest watering hole, but at least he could have invited him to come along. Sam wasn't much of a drinker, but tonight, with everything that was going on… he really needed some extra help to unwind.

Frustrated, his attention drifted to the duffle bag abandoned on the floor. The oldest Winchester always carried a couple of bottles of tequila with him and Sam pondered whether or not to hit Dean's private stash. Eventually, and keeping in mind his own wellbeing, he opted for the latter. A soda would have to do for now, so he zipped up his jacket and stepped out onto the porch to find Amy leaning against the railing.

"Hey."

She whirled around.

"You're here."

Sam furrowed his brow. She looked surprised to see him.

"Yeah… why wouldn't I be?"

The question seemed to cause her some unease and she shrouded badly with a shrug.

"Nothing… I noticed that the Impala was missing. I thought you'd gone with them." She'd chosen her words carefully, fishing for some kind of reaction from him.

And Sam didn't disappoint. His expression told her he'd picked up on the fact that she'd said _them_ instead of _him._ He didn't know that Reggie was MIA.

"Reggie's not inside?" He tilted his head toward their room.

"Nope. Said she needed some air and left. That was half an hour ago." Amy kept her eyes on Sam.

"Oh…"

She could almost hear the cogs turning in his head and after a moment and a dry gulp he came to the same conclusion Amy had:

"They probably went out for a drink…" He paused, and when he spoke again his voice was strained. "…or something."

"Yeah… or something…"

The two stood in silence as their treacherous minds quickly came up with alternate locations for the missing couple. Sam's offered the gruesome image of a random, seedy alleyway. One of its dark and dank walls was all Dean would need. Amy's scenario wasn't as elaborate - the back of the Impala would suffice for what they were probably doing.

The walls of her stomach cramped up at the mental picture and she had to swallow back the acid that threatened to creep its way into her mouth.

Next to her, a dejected Sam was having a similar reaction.

The dimming porch light above them flickered and suddenly he stood up to his full height. Amy looked up at him quizzically; the usually soft lines of his face were hardened by resolve.

"Do you want a drink?" Sam offered out of the blue.

"Um… yeah… but we don't have a car…" She searched for a solution and came up with: "We could ask Garrett to-"

"No need. I got tequila."

Amy tried to get a read on him. His jaw was set, his shoulders squared, his features devoid of any emotion other than determination.

Giving up on trying to understand what was going through his mind she smiled and accepted the proposition:

"Lead the way."

* * *

Amy figured she had more than her fair share of alcohol when her vision became unfocussed. Yet she continued to guzzle down the golden liquid until the walls started to move. That's when she decided it was time to go from sitting to lying on the bed.

'_Much better. No more pesky walls doing the East Coast swing._"

Now all she had to worry about was the amazing tap dancing ceiling.

She shut her eyes and scrunched up her nose in a vain attempt to fight the wave of nausea that hit her.

"You ok?" Sam asked, alerted by her painful groan.

Reluctantly, Amy turned her throbbing head and popped a single lid open. Sam was lying next to her; his cheeks tinted by an unhealthy shade of green. It almost certainly mirrored her own skin tone.

"I'm fine. Quit hogging the booze." She grumbled, snatching the bottle from him and taking a generous swig.

He watched with uncertainty. This was their second bottle.

"Maybe we should call it a night."

"No." She stated plainly, laying her head back down.

"You look like you're about to throw up." He pointed out hesitantly.

"Don't worry. If I do, I'll aim for the other bed." She assured him, waving her thumb in the direction of Dean's mattress.

Sam chuckled.

"We emptied out his stash. He's gonna be pissed."

Amy jutted out her lower lip and brought her shoulders in to showcase her indifference.

The mention of his brother brought out the memory of what had prompted their drinking binge and a heavy weight settled over his already constricted chest.

For the last hour he'd been on a rollercoaster of emotions, ranging from sorrow, to anger, to flat out jealousy. Yes. Now that his brain was soaking in alcohol, Sam could finally admit it, at least to himself. He was jealous.

He still couldn't figure out why… but he was, in fact, jealous.

As if she was reading his mind, Amy supplied him with an explanation:

"You like her, don't you?"

He jolted a bit and instantly regretted it. His head was pounding.

"Come on, Sammy… we're completely trashed here. We probably won't even remember any of this… you can admit it." She coaxed him.

Sam took his time by rolling onto his side and carefully propping himself up on his elbow so he could get a better look at her.

"Maybe…"

Amy's lips stretched for an impish grin and she waggled her eyebrows at him.

"I knew it."

Whether it was because he'd said it out loud or because of Amy's boastful reaction, he wasn't sure, but an intense dread made him hastily try to retract his previous statement.

"I mean… I-I'm not sure."

Amy rolled her eyes and snorted.

"I don't… _like_ her. I just…"

"Just what, Sammy?"

He exhaled his frustration and sat up.

"I don't know. She makes me feel…"

She waited for him to pick the right words. The ones he chose came as a surprise:

"… sick."

"Sick? Really? She makes you sick? What, like food poising?"

"I don't know how to explain it. It's just… strange… and different… Not like with…" The name got stuck in his clenching throat and Amy mercifully provided him with it:

"Jessie?"

"Yeah…" He ran his hand through his shaggy hair as if straightening the unruly threads would miraculous translate into a falling into place of the random thoughts jostling inside his head. "She was different. Everything was easy with her. She made me happy, made me feel safe…" He waited a beat before confessing: "… normal."

"And what about Reggie?"

"Ha…" He forced out a snigger. "Reggie's _nothing_ like Jessie. She's… um… She's a freight train… with faulty brakes."

Amy arched an eyebrow at him.

"So she's a freight train and she makes you sick? That doesn't sound good."

"Exactly!" Sam exclaimed.

Amy watched him carefully as he went into a rant:

"When she's around I… I don't know… I get this pain in my gut. Suddenly, my hands get sweaty and I don't know what to do with them. It's like my arms are too big or something. And-and… I stutter! I can't…" The effort of organizing a coherent thought process made him pant, and eventually he just blurted: "It's like she sucks all the air out of the whole freaking room."

The silence that followed his outburst made his discomfort double and, once again, Amy came to his aid.

Cautious not to trigger her queasiness with any sudden moves, she folded her elbows behind her and slowly raised her back. Though she was obviously three sheets to the wind, making lucid reasoning damn near impossible, she nevertheless gave it a try:

"Medically speaking… what you just described is an adrenal discharge. Sweating, heart racing, heavy breathing… It's just adrenaline being pumped into your system."

Sam listened dutifully.

"It happens when you're in the heat of battle, during a panic attack or… when you _really_ like someone." She emphasized the last part, making sure it sunk in, and just in case it hadn't, she spelled it out for him. "Since you and Reggie aren't slugging it out, that leaves two options. If it's a panic attack, a little Xanax and you're good to go, or…"

"Option number two?" He gulped.

"Or you've got an odd taste in women."

"Where have I heard that before?" He snorted in dismay, standing up, momentarily sobered up by the revelation.

She gave him a sympathetic smile. He did a couple of circles at the foot of the bed, before coming to an abrupt halt. And thankfully so, because following him around with her gaze was making her woozy.

"So how do I make it go away?"

"Sorry, Sammy, medicine can only get you so far." She apologized.

"Great!" He half-growled.

"Why don't you try to talk to her?"

"This is Reggie, remember?"

"So?"

"No. You know what? I'm not gonna do anything. I'm just gonna wait for it to go away."

"Good luck."

"Look, maybe it's not… you know… maybe I don't like her. Maybe she just makes me nervous. Gives me… what was it? Panic attacks?"

"Sam… we both know that's not it." She reasoned with him.

"Why not?"

"'Cause of the look on your face when you realized she and Dean went out… together." She pushed back her own visceral reaction to the recollection.

"What look?"

"The green eyes monster look. Doesn't suit you, by the way."

"Jealous? I'm not jealous!"

Amy sighed at his bullheadedness.

"I'm not!" He insisted. "Reggie and Dean have been hookin' up forever and I never got jealous before. Why would I get jealous now?"

He waited for a response, but Amy was frozen in place. He replayed his words in his mind and suddenly recognized the emotion twisting the corners of her eyes - pain.

'_Oh, shit!'_


End file.
